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THE EMOTIONS

JAMESMcCOSS

f >-mf-'n^$

-AMmM^i:'i

THE EMOTIONS

JAMES McCOSH,D.D.,LL.D.

nncDBiT or nnoxroN oouaqi ; authob or ** xrros or Binn «onnHm«*

** ui Tmi iOH i or fm MDn,** no.

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

743 AND 745 Bkoadwat

1890

(LIBRARY ^
or TMC
LELANO SfANFORD JUNIOR
^ UfnVERSITY. ^

I AM not satiflfied with the aceoant which has been
^ven of the feelings and emotions in our books of mental
Bcience, and thence transferred into the common thought
and literature of modern times.

The word " feeling " in English, and the word " sen-
Bibility " in French, with their cognate phrases " feel,"
sentiment," and "aentir," are very vague and am-
biguous. They may embrace two such different mental
properties, as senaation on the one hand, and emotions,
as of fear, hope, grief, and anger, on the other. Some
writers lose themselves and confuse their readers by
speaking of all our mental states, even our intellectual
exercises, as feelings. The word " Gefiihl " in German
is scarcely less ambiguous, sometimes designating mere
affections of the senses, at other times our higher faiths.

Those who translate English, French, and German
into Latin and Greek, have always experienced a diffi-
culty in getting words in these classical languages to cor-
respond to those I have named in the modem tongues.
It is a curious circumstance that we have no such loose
phrase in the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures as our "feel-

^1 In these circumstances it is surely desirable to have

the emotions separated from the feelings, and to have a
renewed attempt to give an analysis, a description, and
claseilication of them, as distinguished from other mental
qualities.

The Yaguenesa of the idea entertained favors the
tendency on the part of the prevailing physiological psy-
chology of the day to resolve all feeling, and our very
emotions, into nervous action, and thus gain an impor-
tant province of our nature to materialism.

In this work I treat of the emotions as psychical acts,
but I do not overlook their physiological concomitants
and effects. I enter little into controversy. My aim baa
been to expound the truth, and leave it to shine in iti
owi> light.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.
Analysis op Emotion ....

BOOK FIRST.
FOUR ELEMENTS IN EMOTION.

CHAPTER I.

FIRST ELEMENT: APPETENCES.

Beet. I. What Appetences are ..... T

H. Fbimaht AppBTKKOBa 9

1. LovB of Pleasure and AversioD to Pain. 2. Pni-
tnoting Good of others. S. PerBonal Attacli'
nients. 4. Taatea and Talents tending to act.
5. Bodily Appetites. B, LoTa of Society.
7. Love of Esteem. 8. Lore of Power. 9. Lots
of Wealth. 10. bathetic Feeling. 11. Moral
Sentiment.

^II. Brcondart Appetences IS

{Supplemenlary.) Evoldtion of Emotions . . ai
{Supplemeniary.') Do THE Derivative Appbtxnckb
BEAR A Conscious Refebencb to the Orig-
inal Okes 23

Motives )6

. DiPFERENCEa OF Appetenoeb uh Diffbrbmt In-

CONTENTS.

VIII.

Conspiring Appktihces

'so

IX.

Conflicting Appetences

Dominant Appetences

Undeveloped Appetences ....

XII.

Thb Motivklkbb Man

CHAPTER n.

SECOND ELEMENT; THE IDEA (PHANTASM).

Sect. L

Nature of the Idea whiob calls fobth the

Emotion

II.

Works oir Fiction

in.

Association of Ideas in Emotion .

IV.

Si-OBTAMEous Flow of Thought
CHAPTER IH.

THIRD

ELEMENT: EXCITEMENT WITH ATTACHMENT AND

KEFUGNANCE.

Sect. I.

Their Gbnbeal Nature

Action and Reaction op Feeling

IIL

Natdre restoring itsblp ....

CHAPTER IV.
FOCBTH ELEMENT: THE OBGANIC AFFECTION.

Some Empirical Laws

1. Idea of Good eoolies, while Idea of Evil de-

ranges the Frame. 2. Organa aifected. 3. Bell's

and Darwin's Obserrations. 4. Conclusions

pregsions are prwluced by EmotionB. 6. Troth

in Physiognomy. 7, Mingling of Seoeation of

^^^

Pain with Emotion. 8. Effect of Imaginary

^^^^^L

Scenes. 9. Sympathy. 10. Bo<iily SUtea pro-

^^^^^1

duce Emotion. 11. Emotion cravea for Ex-

^^l'

pression. 13. What Effect of restraining Ex-

■_

pression.

BOOK SECOND.

CLASSIFICATION AND DESCRIPTION OF EMOTIONa

CHAPTER L

DIVISION OF THE EMOTIONS . . .11.

CHAPTEE n.
EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.
Sect. 1. Retrospective Euotioks . • . . . 1
Self-satisfaction or Regret : Complacency
01 Bisplacency ; Self-Gstecm or Self-Diasatiaf ac-
tion ; Self -Con gratnlatioD or Self-Kuproacb ; Self-
Sufficiency or SeU- Depreciation \ Self- Adulation
or Self-Accuaalion ; Mortification ; Bitternesa ;
Chagrin ; Pleasant Memories ; Self- Approbation
or Self- Condemnation ; Self-Gratuktion or Self-
Haoilliation ; Repining. Moral Approbation
and Disapprobation : Testimony of a Good
Conscience ; Remorse. Bbnionanct i Thank-
fulness. Anq&r : Irritation i Temper; Indigno-

H. Immediate Emotions 1

Jot and Sorrow i Content and Discontent; Glad-
ness snd Depression ; Cheerfulness and Dejec-
tion ; Good and Bad Spirits ; Rnpture and Mel-
ancrholy. Pride and Sklp - IIdmiliation :
Self-Conceit ; Self-Respect ; Humility ; Vanity ;
Haughtiness ; Contempt ; Disdain ; Scorn ; Sneer-
ing; Meekness; Repining; PeeTishness; Sulki-
nese; Disgust; Good and Bad Humor; Soup-
ness of Temper. Pitt : Hardness of Heart ;
Sympathy with Joys and Sorrows; Envy; Trust
or Suspicion ; Rejoicing in, or Jealousy of, Suc-
cess o£ Others.

HI. Frobfbctitb Euotiohs 1S6

Surprise; Astonishment; Admir&tiDa ; WondBrj
Veneration, Hope and Fbab ; Anticipatioo

Expectation ; Assurance of Hope; Apprelienaioi;
Dread; Terror; Shyness; Shame; Modesty and
Impudence ; Horror ; Despair ; Anxiety ; DUap-
pointmeot ; Hope of Approval

CHAPTER in.

Sect. L .£sTHBTicAi. Tbeorirb 1

II. Place of Skbsation in ^STHHTice . . .1

III. Physical Beauty ]

Sound; Form; Color.

IV. Intellectual Beauty 1

Relations o£ Identity and DiSerence, Whole and
Parts (Meana and End) ; Resemblance (Classes) ;
Space; Time; Quantity; Active Property ; Cau-
sation ( Final Cause).
V. The Idea raising the Esthetic Feelino
Vr. What is the true Theory of Beautv?
VII. Inpluekck op AssociATiOff ON Taste
VHI. Complexity or the Esthetic Emotion

IX. The Picturi^bque

X. The Ludicrous

XI. The Sublime

XII. Beauty in Natukal Objects . . .
Trees ; Mouotaina ; Waterfalls ; Ocean.

XIIL SCRNBRT OF DlFFBRENT CoUKTRIEB . > . SOI

XIV. The Fink Arts 207

Arcliitecture ; Sculpture ; Landscape Gardening ;
Landscape Painting ; Historical Fainting.

CONTENTS. IX

BOOK THIRD.

COMPLEX EMOTIONS.

CHAPTER L
CONTINUOUS EMOTION&

Sect. L Affections and Passions 215

II. Love 216

III. Love of the Sexes 218

IV. Emotions comb in Groups 222

y. Temperament ••...•• 224

VI. Temper 226

VII. Prepossessions 227

VIIJ. Prejudices 229

IX. Fickleness of Feblino 281

X. Ruling Passion 282

CHAPTER IL

MOTIVES SWAYING MASSES.

Sect I. Community of Feeung 287

IK Reaction of Public Sentiment • • .241
in. An Unwritten Chapter on Political Econ-
omy • • • 246

Conclusion • • 251

INTRODUCTION.

INTS INVOLVED HT EMOTIOKS.

Four i

s of 1

much the

) ^e

asd tem-

: persons o
perament are traveling in the same vehicle. At a par-
ticnlar stopping-place it is announced to them that a cer-
tain individual has just died suddenly and unexpectedly.
One of the company looks perfectly stolid ; a second
comprehends what has taken place, but is in do way
affected ; the third looks and evidently feels sad ; the
fourth is overwhelmed with grief, which finds expres-
sion in tears, sobs, and exclamations. Whence the differ-
ence of the four individuals before us ? In one respect
they are all alike, — an announcement has been made to
them. The first is a foreigner, and has not understood
the communication. The second had never met with the
deceased, and could have no special regard for him. The
third had often met with him in social intercourse and
busmess transactions, and been led to cherish a great es-
teem for him. The fourth was the brother of the de-
parted, and was bound to him by native affection and a
thousand interesting ties, earlier and later. From such
a case we may notice that in order to emotion there is
need, first, of some understanding or apprehension. The
foreigner had no feeling, because he had no idea or be-
lief. We may observe further that there must be, sec-
ondly, an affection of some kind, for the stranger was not
interested in the occurrence. The emotion flows forth

2 INTBODUCTION.

from a well, and it is strong in proportion to the waters,
— is stronger in the brother than in the friend. It is
evident, thirdly, that the persons affected are in a moved
or excited state. A fourth peculiarity has appeared in
the sadneaa of the countenance and the agitations of the
bodily frame. Four elements have thus come forth to
view,

First, there is the affection, or what I prefer calling the
motive principle, or the appetence. In the illustrative
case, there are the love of a friend and the love of »
brother. But the appetence, to use the most unexcep-
tionable phrase, may consist of an immense number and
variety of other motive principles, such as the love of
pleasure, the love of wealth, or revenge, or moral ap-
probation. These appetences may be original, such as
the love of happiness ; or they may be acquired, such as
the love of money, or of retirement, or of paintings, or
of articles of vertii, or of dress. These moving powers
are at the basis of all emotion. Without the fountain
there can be no flow of waters. The passenger who had
no regard for the person whose death was reported to
him was not affected with grief. The two who loved
him felt sorrow, each according to the depth of his affec-
tion.

Secondly, there is an idea of something, of some ob-
ject or occurrence, as fitted to gratify or disappoint a mo-
tive principle or appetence. When the friend and brother
of the departed did not know of the occurrence they
were not moved. But as soon as the intelligence was
conveyed to thera and they realized the death, they were
filled with sorrow. The idea is thus an essential ele-
ment in all emotion. But ideas of every kind do not
raise emotion. The stranger had a notion of a death
having occurred, but was not moved. The idea excited

FOUR ELEJIENTS IN EMOTION. 8

emotion in the breasts of those who had the affection, be-
cause the event apprehended disappointed one of the
cherished appetences of their mindH.

Thirdly, there is the conscious feeling. The soul is in
a moved or excited state, — hence tlie phrase emotion.
Along with this there ia an attraction or repulaion : wo
are drawn toward the objects that we love, that is, for
wbich we have an appetence, and driven away from
those which thwart the appetence. To use looser phrase-
ology, we cling to the good, and we turn away from the
evil. This excitement, with the attractions and repul-
sions, is the conscious element in the emotion. Yet it all
depends on the two other elements, on the affection and
the idea of something fitted to gratify or disappoint it.
The felt excitement or passion differs according to the
nature of the appetence and the depth of it, and accord-
ing to what the idea that evokes it contains. A smaller
gain or loss does not affect na so much as a greater, and
tlie greatness or smallness of the gain or loss is deter-
mined by the cherished affection. What Is a loss to one
18 not felt to be so by another, because the ruling pa»-
riona of tbe two men differ.

Fourthly, there ia an organic affection. The seat of
it seems to be somewhere in tlie cerebrum, whence it in-

' fiuencea the nervous centres, producing soothing or ex- 1

citing and at times exasperating results. This differs
widely in the case of different individuals. Some are
hurried irresistibly into violent expressions or convnl- '

sions. Others, feeling no less keenly, may appear out-
wardly calm, because restrained by a strong will ; or they
may feel repressed and oppressed till they have an out^
let in some natural flow or outburst. But it is to be ob- J

served that this orgiinic affection is not the primary nor fl

^ the main element in anything that deserves the name of I

4 INTRODUCTION.

emotion, such as hope and fear, joy and sorrow, reproach
and despair. A sentence of a few words announces to
a man the death of his brother, and reaches his mental
apprehension by the sense of hearing. First he under-
stands it, then be feels it by reason of bis cherished affec-
tion, and then there is the nervous agitation. Emotion
is not what it has often been represented by physiol-
ogists, a mere nervous reaction from a bodily stimulus,
like the kick which the frog gives when it is pricked.
It begins with a mental act, and throughout is essentially
an operation of the mind.

He who can unfold these four elements and allot to
them their relative place and connection will clear up a
subject which is only imperfectly understood at present,
and show what emotion is in itself, and what its place in
the human constitution. Each of these aspects has been
noticed in works written both in ancient and modem
times. Tlie Scottish school of metaphysicians, and es-
pecially Dugald Stewart, have sought, hut not in a very
searching manner, to determine man's springs of action.
It will be shown that Aristotle and the Stoics knew that
in all emotion there is a phantasm or opinion involved.
Dr, Thomas Brown has given us an eloquent descrip-
tion of the mental excitement, which, however, is chiefly
left to novelists, who often make mistakes. Physiologists
have had to take up the organic action, hitherto with
not much success. But so far as is known to me, the
four elements have not been exhibited in their combina-
tion and their mutual relation by any one.

BOOK FIRST.
THE FOUR ELEMENTS IN EMOTION.

riKST ELEMENT: APPETENCES.
SECTION I.

WHAT APPETRNCES ABB.

Bt the word appetence I anderstand what is com-
monly but vaguely designated by "motive," "spring of
action," "disposition," "inclination," "affection." But
all these have larger and more indefinite, not to say am-
biguous, significations, and have more or less of the ele-
ment of will. It is necessary to remark thus early that
appetence has nutbing in it of the nature of voluntary
action, which belongs to a Tery different department of
the mind. It ia simply a tendency in the mind to crave .
for an object for its own sake. It is not desire ; it pre-
cedes desire and leads to it. It is not action, but a spring
of action. The phrase I prefer ia a convenient one, as
the noun has cognate adjectives, appetible and inappeti-
ble. It has often been incidentally noticed, though it
seldom been formally announced, that, as the biisis of
all emotion, there is a mental principle determining its
nature and its intensity ; this I call an appetence.

It would be of great service to every branch of mental
science to have an approximately good classification of
the appetences by which mankind are swayed. This ia

difficult work, moi'e so than a classification of plants
or animals, the determining motives being so many and
BO varied in appearance and in reality. Some aeem to

8 FIEST ELEMENT: APPETENCES.

act under no guiding principle, as if on an unaccount-
able impulse ; but if we reflect, we shall find that they
must have been pursuing some end, indulging a lust or
passion, or restlessly seeking a change of state or posi-
tion. In many cases the m;in himself could not tell us,
and we could never discover, what swayed him, but we
may be sure that there was a glittering object attracting
him. Every man we meet with, hurrying to and fro on
the streets of a great city, dancing in a ball-room, or
idling in a summer saunter, has, after all, an end which
he is seeking. " For eveiy man hath business and de-
sire, such as it is." It may be possible to form, if not a
perfect, a good provisional arrangement of man's springs
of action.

It is obvious that men cannot be swayed by every con-
ceivable motive. No man can be made to choose pain
as pain. He may choose pnin, but it is supposed to pro-
mote some other end which has power with him, because
it may secure pleasure, or reputation, or moral good.
There are motives swaying some which have little or no
power over others. Multitudes are led by the love of
property or of reputation, while others scarcely feel these
inclinations. Of some, we are sure that they are incapa-
ble of doing a mean or dishonorable deed. Of others,
we believe that they will never perform an act of benev-
olence or of self-sacrifice. When a. crime is committed,
there may be certain persons auspected ; there are others
of whom all are sure that they have had no participation
in it. Ijet us try to ascertain the motives by which all
mankind are swayed, and which we call : —

PBIHABT APPETENCES.

PniMABT APPKTKKCES.

I. Every man is swayed by the love of pleaanre anil

the aversion to pain. This is not the result ot delibern-

tion, or an exercise of choice ; it is instinctive. We shrin);

from suffering aa suffering; we lay hold of enjoyment ii-<

enjoyment. Through a great part of our waking mo-

■ ments we are influenced by these ends, — seizing this, and

oiding that. Even when we resist these motive pow-

1, — as when we stretch forth our band to ward ofif a

I blow intended for our neighbor, — we feel them, and bave

I to counteract them by some higher considerations.

Little moi-e need be Sidd on this subject; indeed, little
'■ more can be siiid. "Pain" and "pleasure" cannot be
defined; this, not because of their complexity, but of
their simplicity, there is nothing simpler into which U>
resolve them. Tliey do not need to be defined, for all
sensitive beings know what they are. I rather think
that all pain originates in a derangement of our organ-
ism. But it is not felt as pain till perceived by the con-
Bcious soul.

The question arises. Is this the only consideration by
which man can be influenced ? The langunge used by
many leaves upon us the impression that this is so, — it
is so in their estimation. Some theorists derive all our
motives from this one. This, however, is not the view
which presents itself at first sight, which shows such an
( infinite variety of other attractions, such as kindness,
I sympathy, the desire for power and for society. But
I they tell us that we have found power and social inter-
course leading to enjoyment, and they argue tliiit the
very idea of these, as associated with pleasui'e, raises

FIBST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

appetence. While the piinciple doubtlesa has its modi-
fying influence, it cannot account for the wbole phe-
nomena as exhibited in human nature. There are appe-
tences other than those looking to pleasure and pain,
such as the love of children for parents and for brothers
and sisters, arising so early, abiding so steadfiistly, and
BO marked in individuiils iind in families, that they are
evidently in the very nature and tendency of tlie soul.'

II. Man is iiiclini'd to promote the happiness and avert
the unhappiness of his fellow-men. No doubt he may be
able to restrain this disposition by a cherished selfish-
ness. But there will be times when, in spite of all at-
tempts to repress it, it will come forth in some kind deed
or word. So far as the great body of men and women
and children are concerned, there is a disposition to
oblige, to help a fellow-creature, if this can be done
without injuring their own interests; and, in the case
of not a few, it is a benevolence which prompts to self-
sacrifice and labors for the good of others. Besides the
instincts which lead us to seek our own good, there are
evidently others which incline us to find for our fellow-
men the things which we regard as good for ourselves.

III. There are the attachments to relatives, as of par-
ents to children, and of children to parents, of buothera
and sisters to one another, and, I may add, of grand-
mothers and grandfathers to their grandchildren, and
often of more distant kindred. In all such cases there is
a natural appetency, and this is called forth by the idea of
the person and of the relationship of that person. Take
the case of a mother. There is a fountain within ready

.to flow out. It does not appear till there ia a child,
though it seems to manifest itself at times in an irregu-

I As to the theorj' which dra
^n, *ea Saotion III-

9 them bj Gvolaliou from plea

PBIMART APPETENCES.

lar tBanner in the attachment of a childless woman to
animals or other pets, or in the eriiving for an adopted
Bon or daughter. Let there be an idea of the relation in
which the child stands to the mother, of the child being
her offspring, and being dependent on her, and associated
with her now and for life, and the stream begins to flow.
It is the same with all other relative attachments, say
paternal, filial, sisterly, or brotherly. First there is a pre-
disposition, and then an idea of the intimate connection.
Along with this tliere are frequently natural affinities,
or common tastes and tendencies, which draw the related
parties closer to each other. We have all read tales in
which a mother is represented as recognizing her long-
lost child, and a sister falling into the arms of a brother
whom she never saw, simply on meeting. But there is
no ground for making sucli a representation. The nat-
ural likenesses in mind, body, and feature may predis-
pose relatives towards one other; bnt, after all, there
must be ground to lead to and justify the discovery.
The affection thus called forth by the appetence and ap-
prehension ia made livelier and stronger by frequent in-
tercourse, by exchanges of affection, by offices of kind-
ness, by common ends and pursuits, and may be lessened,
and in some instances all but destroyed, by clashing in-
terests, — say, about money, — by quarrels, and even by
long separations. The affection of friends is gendered
in the iirst instance by affinities of tastes, dispositions,
and motives, probably favored by circumstances, and is
kept up by frequent association and mutual kindness.

IV, Tiie native tastes and talents, and our very ac-
quired ones when they become part of our nature, prompt
to action, and excite emotion when gratified or disap-
pointed, and this independent of pleasure, or pain, or
any other end. This seems true of our organic activity.

12 FIRST ELEMENT: APPETENCES.

The Iamb frisks, the colt gambols, impelled by a life in
their frames ; the child solves the problem of perpetual
motion ; and all our lives, till the vital energy is dried
up, and aged men and women are satisfied with their
couch and their chimney-corner, we are impelled to
movement and change of movement, owing to the or-
gans of our frame demanding action. We see thia strik-
ingly in the musical talent, which often comes out in
very early life. Our intellectual powers, our memory,
our reasoning, all tend to act, and will act, unless re-
strained. Talents, arithmetical, mathematical, mechan-
ical, artistic, poetical, historical, metaphysical, fitted ft)r
the study of objects in nature, inanimate and animate,
Bun, moon, and stars, plant and animal, will all find a
field to work in, even in the raoat unfavorable circum-
stances. These may show themselves in childhood, and
continue dominant tliroughout the whole life, determin-
ing, it may be, in spite of difficulties, the man's trade or
profession, and, indeed, his whole earthly destiny, and
possibly prompting him, though engrossed with earthly
business, to devote the few leisure hours he has to writ-
ing a work on natural history, a poem, or a philosoph-
ical treatise. Not only are there intellectual, there are
emotional and, it may be added, moral powers, seeking
out their appropriate objects, and making the possess-
ors search for lovely landscapes or beautiful paintings,
or leading tiiem to visit the house of mourning, and
ri'lieve distress. All these, when gratified, stir up pleas-
ing emotions, and when disappointed unpleasing. Inti-
mately connected with these —

V. There are the appetites, as of hunger, thirst, rest,
of motion, or sex. They originate in the body, hut they
become mental. They craTe for their objects, and thia
for their own sakes, not merely for the pleasure they

PRIMARY APPETENCES,

give, or the pain from which their gratification delivers
as. It is not the pleasure that gives riae ti> the appe-
tite; it is rather the action of the appetite that gives
rise to the pleasure, — though doubtless the two move
in the same direction, and each gives an impetus to the
other.

VI. There is the love of society. This propensity ap-
pears among the lower animals, some tribes of whidi are
gregarious. It cornea forth in very early life among chil-
dren, who draw towards Others of about the same age.
With some, as they advance in life, it becomes a strong
and confirmed passion, so that they cannot live without
the excitement produced by running round the circle of
society, till they become giddy and fall. Solitude, ex-
cept fur a time to soothe the mind, is felt to be irksome
by most people. Solitary confinement is one of the se-
verest of punishments, and when carried out rigidly has
been known to end in lunacy. It is to be observed that
persons associate most pleasantly together when their
trains of mental association run in the same direction,
or parallel to each other. Hence it is that people of the
aame craft or profession, tradesmen, merchants, lawyers,
doctors, preachers, students, teachers, are apt to meet
with each other in larger or smaller companies. I have
noticed that the most popular men and women in society
are those whose trains of thought and of conversation,
and whose opinions and sentiments, are in thorough ac-
cordance with the circles in which they move. The best
liked people are those whose whole manner and style of
remark is a sort of flattery to those they meet.

VII. There is a love of esteem, commendation, praise,
glory, appearing also in early life, and capable of becom-
ing a dominant passion. It is apt to associate itself with
the motive last mentioned ; and the young delight in a

14 FIRST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

smile, an approving word, or a gift from those whom they
love, or with whom they associate, from father, mother,
teacher, and Bometiiiiea stronger than any others, from
companions. This principle, the desire to keep or retain
the good opinion of others, often makes the tyranny ex-
ercised over boys by their companions, in workshop, in
echool, and college, more formidable than any wielded by
the harshest masters or rulers. As persons advance in
life it becomes a desire to stand well with the cirule in
which they move, their professional circle, or the gay cir-
cle, or the fashionable circle, or the respectable circle, or
the good moral circle, or their religious circle, say, their
congregation or the denomination of which they are mem-
bers. The fear of losing the esteem or incurring the cen-
sure of tiieir social set or party is sometimes a means of
sustaining good resolutions, and of keeping people in the
straight course ; quite as frequently it tempts to coward-
ice, as they Lave not the courage to do the right and op-
pose the evil, since it would make them unpopular. In
the case of many the desire becomes a craving for repu-
tation, a passion for fame, burning and flaming, and it
may be consuming the soul. This often leads to great
deeds in war and in peace, in the common arts and in
the fine arts, in literature and science. Bat being ill
regulated or carried to excess it is often soured into jeal-
ousy, or envy, or issues in terrible disappointment. Be-
ing thwarted, it may become a love of notoriety, which
commonly springs up in the breasts of persons who, hav-
ing met with opposition, or failed to secure from the good
the applause which they expected, perhaps by honorable
means, or having incurred odium, possibly undeserved,
are bent on having reputation by any kind of means, or
from any sort of people. The passion may become so
strong as to need no aid from the pleasure derived from

PBISIARY APPETENCES.

it, — nay, may lead the man to injure bia bealth and in-
cur Buffermg, in order to seciire posthunioua fame of
whirili lie can nevtr be consoioua,

YIII. There is the love of power. It is conceivable
tliat tbia motive might be generated by the love of pleiia-
ure and the aversion to pain, for in ordinary circum-
stances power enables us t-o multiply our enjoyments and
to avoid aufferiiig. But then it appears in ao marked a
form in individuals and in families that we are forced to
conclude that it ia native ; we diacover that it ia often
inherited from ancestors. It is the griiaping of power
combined with the thirst for fame which constitutes am-
bition, the character of the ambition depending on the
relative atrength of the two elementa : the former lead-
ing to the performiincti of more brilliant feats, but the
other leading to the more determined action, the two
united producing the men whom the world calls great,
but who have often been the servnnta, or rathbr the very
slaves, of their passions. The love of dominion ia the
most unrelenting of all the passions by which man can
be swayed, being the power which gives its atrength and
persistence to tyranny nnder all ita forma.

IX. There is the love of property, what ia called
acquisitiveness. This is often represented aa epringing
from the love of power, alwaya combined with the lovu
o£ pleasure. Wealth givea ua meana of securing many
kinds of enjoyment, and no doubt is commonly coveted
because it is so associated in onr minds. But there are
casus in which the passion appeai-s in very early life, and
in which it is handed down from father to son, and runs
in families. We see it in an instinctive form in the
lower animals, aa when the dog hides his bones for future

It is neceaaary, in order to make our enumeration of

16 FIRST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

primary springs of action complete, to mention two
others ; but it will not be necessary to dwell upon them,
as they will fall to be noticed more appropriately else-
where,

X, There is the leathetic sentiment, making db seek
and delight in the beautiful, the picturesque, the humor-
ous, and the sublime.

XT. There is the moral sentiment, prompting tia to
seek and to do what is good,'

From these leading forms as they mingle with each
other and are influenced by circumstances, there proceed
others, which are called : —

SECTION in.

SECOND ART AFFETEKCBS.

From the time of Hobbes of Malmesbury, in the mid-
dle of the seventeenth century, there has been a ten-
dency among metaphysicians to make the original inlets
of knowledge as few as possible. Locke made them only
two, sensation and reflection, and Condillac, with his fol-
lowers in France, reduced them to one, sensation. For
two centuries ingenuity stniined itself to the utmost to
derive all our ideas, even those of God and necessary
truth and duty, from the two sources, or more frequently
from one. I make this historical remark simply as in-
troductory to another : that during the same period there
■was a like determination to diminish the original motive
principles of the mind. Hobbes by a sum mary process
referred alt men's activities to motives drawn from pleas-
ure and pain. During the last century and the beginning

' See Dugiild Stewart's Desires, in Active and Moral Powers, vol. i,
I treat of the JKatlictlc E]iiniiuDB in book Eecond, chap. ii. I hapn K
treat of the Conncii^nce nnil Will in another little volume.

SECOMDAltr APPETENCES. 17

of thia, wasted labor was spent in showing that, given
only one or a very few springs of action, the whole of
man's conduct can be explained by the association of

There has been a ch»Dge in all that theorizing since
Darwinism has become a power. All along thinkers not
carried away by the dominant philosophy were alow to
believe that there were no special intellectual powers,
that there were no special propensities native to mankind
generally, to races or individuals (Robert Buma doubted
whether all sense of beauty could be explained by the as-
sociation of ideas) j for they thought they saw traces of
these appearing at a very early age and going down in
families. Since the doctrines of evolution and heredity
have come into prominence, the current of opinion has en-
tirely changed. Now the number of powers and propen-
sities in human nature is supposed to have become ao
great by differentiation and specialization that it ia im-
possible to enumerate them and difficult to classify tliem.
Having tried to give a provisionally good arrangement of
the primary appetences, let us now look at the others.

One general principle will be acknowledged by all:
The secondary appetences imply primary, and grow upon
thera as the mistletoe does upon the oak. We can under-
stand, in a general way, how this is effected. Undoubt-
edly cerebral and nervous action are implied, but this is
not the only nor the main power at work. Materialists
talk confidently of being able to explain the whole of
mental action by brain structure. But there is an im-
passable gulf between a disposition of the cerebro-spinal
mass and a desire of some kind, say, to attain a high
ideal, or to reach communion with God. It is by mental
rather than material laws that secondary affections ai'e
fashioned. Association of ideas plays an important part,

18 FIRST ELEMENT : APFETEKCE3.

which has been carefully unfolded by tbe Scottish school
from tbe daya of Tunibull and Hume down to the time
of Mr. J. S. Mill. Money may be coveted, first, as pro-
curing pleasure, and then, perhaps, by gratifying the de-
sire for power or applause ; but by being associated with
them it becomes identified with them, and carries all
these with it, and in the end seems to be desired for its
own sake. Tbe processes are first mental, but they pro-
duce an effect on the cerebral structure (what Carpenter
calls unconscious cerebral affection), and tbe mind now
works iu accordance with it; and the whole becomes
hereditary, and may go down from fnther or mother, or
quite as frequently in some of tbe peculiarities, from
grandfather and grandmother to their grandchildren.

It is a property of our nature, however we may ex-
plain it, that these derived principles may become pri-
mary, and seek, apparently for their own sake, objects
which were at first desired, because they tended to pro-
mote farther ends. We have all heard of persons cling-
ing to their money after they were fully aware that they
could draw no enjoyment from it, — say, when they knew
they were dying. The ruling passion is often strong in
death, and this passion may be a derivative one.^

The derivative appetences may and do assume an im-
mense number and variety of forms, which run into and
are mixed up with each other. Some are appropriately
called secondary, being derived immediately from a pri-
mary. Others might be called tertiary or quaternary, as
they may be derived from principles of action which are
themselves derived, very frequently from a number of prin-
ciples, original and derivative, woven together in all sorts
of ways, so that it is difficult to unravel the web. From

1 There ia a wtdl-authenticated Story of a inisar aendiDg, before lie died,
foi an undertaker, and cheating him in the bargain made for hia fiineTol

SECONDARY APPETENCES.

childhood up to full maturity (when the process is apt to
cease), the actuating principles are apt to become more
numerous and epecia,! ; in declining life they become fewer
and more centralized. A like process may be seen in the
advance of mankind : in the primitive ages the aims and
pursuits are limited; as a people become more civilized
they have more varied wants, and, by differentiation and
specialization (acta so well known to biologists), the tastes
become more diversified and niintite. Among the more
wide-spread appetences is the love of freedom, spurning
at restraint, and feeling a buoyant enjoyment in walking
at liberty ; it is one of the incentives which prompt a peo-
pla to resist a tyrant and fight for independence. Older
than this is the bowing to authority, learned in the fam-
ily, and acknowledging the authority of a father, and
learning allegiance and loyalty to a sovereign. There is
the love of country, fed by common feelings and common
interests, and which may and ought to lead us to be in-
terested in all that relates to its welfare, and ready (Will
has entered here) to undertake labor and sacrifice for its
good. There Is the taste for a particular work, a partic-
ular profession, a special art, or a special science. Some
are devoted to farming, with open field and fresh air ; some
to a trade which requires ingenuity, such as mechanics,
building, or painting; some to sea-faring, with its advent-
ures; some to merchandise, with its speculations. As
the division of labor (which Adam Smith shows to be bo
intimately connected with the progress of a people}
advances, there are generated corresponding aptitudes
and employments. As mental activity is called forth,
some devote their whole soul and life to the fine arts,
or to literature, or to science. Good arises from this di-
vision and subdivision of labor and taste. It is a happy
thing for himself and for his race when a man's tastea

FmsT ELEUEirr: appetences.

ura for bis professional work ; but there is a dangnr that
bis soul becomes centred in it, so that he cannot be made
to feel an interest in anything else. That man's mind is
apt to become small as a pin point who is employed al!
his life in making a pin point. Even when his field of
labor 13 richer, his mind is narrowed if it is confined ex-
clusively to it, and does not look around on other fields
and npward to heaven. The physicist is apt to get a
downward look by his bending forever towards the earth,
while the metaphysician, in mounting up so far, but not
far enough, is apt to lose himself in the clouds which are
above the earth, but have not the clearness of the heav-
ena. The apecializing often gives great intensity of force,
and advances a department of science and art; but by
looking forever through a microscope our eyes may be
injured, our view of objects made very narrow, and the
mind be without the means of judiciously generalizing.
It is a great relief to a man, hard pressed by his profes-
sional work or bis studies, to have a side enjoyment, say,
in miscellaneous readiug, or in an easy, pleasant art, and
in riding or walking, in shooting and fishing. The mind
is posaessed of qualities, often lying latent, which, if not
restrained, will lead it to take the very deepest interest
in particular, what may appear very minute, objects, — in
a particular place, in a very special artifice or trick, in fa-
vorite animals, or in favorite plants.^ These tastes should
be restrained only so far as to keep us from being ab-
sorbed with them, and thereby being tempted into eccen-
tricity and caprices. As men make progress in intelli-
gence, they will thereby become conformed to a common
standard; but they should take care, meanwhile, not to
lose their individuality, which is a powerful support of

1 I knew a roHQ who had an intense love for toads, which ho kept can-
foUf in hia garden and aamnwi hooaeg.

EVOLUTION 0? EStOTIONS. 21

• independence. By all means let ub have wide-
spread and fertile plains, but let us not pare down our
hills and mountains, to which we may retreat tor free
and fresher air.

SECTION IV. I

Supptemenlary.

KYOLUTlOti OF EMOTIONS.

The supporters of the evolution hypothesis will not be
satisfied with the account given above. They tell us
that the only original motive of the mind is a desire of
happiness and an aversion to pain. From this they draw
all the others, even those usually supposed to be primary.
Society is felt first to be pleasant, and then is sought for
its own Biike. It is the same with the love of property
and the love of power. Attempts were made an age or
two ago to show how this process might be accomplished
in the breast of the individual during the few years of
the formation of his character. This theory has been
abandoned. It is now argued that the motives by which
mankind are swayed are the growth of many and long
ages, have come down from animal to man, and go down
from one generation of man to another.

Tliere are difficulties in the way of the acceptance of
this hypothesis. It supposes that man is descended ffom
the brutes, in the end from an ascidiiin, or a cell, or an
aggregate of molecules. It may be safely said that no
one has been able to show how that is done. The gMp
between the inanimate and the animate has not yet been
filled up. No bridge has yet been found to connect ex-

I tended matter with sensitive and intelligent mind. Com-
ing to the springs of action, it has not been shown how
a love of pleasure for ourselves can become a love for
pleaenre to others, or how sensations can generate a per-

j s

r
I

22 FIRST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

ception of duty. If this can be done, ifc must be by a
very peculiar and remarkable process, wliich for the enda
of science will require to be enunciated, and its exact
nature, laws, and limits specified. Being generated, it ia
supposed to become hereditary. But while we know
that there ia siich a, process as heredity, its evident com-
plexity has not been unraveled, nor ita precise poteuciea
enunciated. Heredity ia essentially an organic, that is, a
bodily, process, and it has not been shown how the trans-
mission of a bodily organization should produce a mental
appetency.

With these doubta hanging over the nature and limits
of evolution and heredity, I have thought it wise not to
connect my exposition of human motives with the de-
velopment hypothesis. Should that doctrine come to be
established and be Biiccessfully applied to the generation
of human motives, it might throw hght on the origin of
human appetences, but would scarcely affect our account
of the appetences themselves. Aasuming the one original
appetence of pleasure and pain, the hypothesis would
have to show how all the derivative ones, such as the
social and moral ones, take their particular shapes. I
wish it to be distinctly understood that in this treatise I
undertake not to determine the origin of motives in the
ages past and among the lower animals j I am satisfied if
I give an approximately correct account of them as they
now act in the human mind. In all inqiiii-y into the
origin of things, when we have not historical proof, we
must commence with ascertaining the nature of the ob-
jects themselves, and then we may seek to tievise an
hypothesis which will explain all the facts. If a true ex-
position is given in this treatise of the springs of action
actually working, it will enable inquirers to determine
ts to any proposed hypothesis, say, that of evolution.

RELATION OF SECONDAST TO PBIJIAKY. 23

whether it meeta all the phenomena. For myself, if ever
I enter into this controversy, it will be in a separate work,
BO aa not to distract the view presented in this treatise of
man as he is.

SECTION V.

Supplemen lary.

A very nice and difficult question is here started.
Does the mind, in following a derived impulse, have any
reference to those from which it is derived ? The second-
ary one, let us suppose, is the love of money, derived from
the primary one, the love of plesisure. In grasping the
coin does the man think merely of the money, or is there
some idea — it may be very vague — oE the enjoyment
expected to be derived from it ? Or, to put the question
in a more general form, has the money come to be loved
for its own sake, or for the pleasure which has come to
be associated with it ?

It is commonly stated in boots on this subject that
the secondary spring of action becomes a primary one.
It certainly does look at first sight as if the object, say
the food, or the fame, is seized for its own sake. If so, it
must be by some principle into whose nature we should
inquire, and which we should seek to enunciate. When
does a secondary rise to the rank of a primary motive ?
I believe an answer to this question might settle the
general one.

But is it necessary to call in a new principle ? Might
it not all be accounted for by the principle of associa-
tion, acting till the product becomes oi^anic and hered-
itary ? Let ua suppose that, actuated by the love of pleas-
ure, the man finds that wealth is the means of imparting

24 FIKST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

and increasing enjoyment. Henceforth enjoyment is as-
sociated with wealth, and the wealth I'a coveted because
of the felicity. Money bringing enjoyment is the idea
that stivs np the desire. It is not necessary to suppose
that we are distinctly conscious of the contemplated en-
joyment entering into the act. The object, say the
wealth, may bulk so largely in our view that the other
element ia not specially noticed. The man may not de-
liberately choose the pleasure; on the contrary, if there
were time and disposition to think, it might be seen that
the object, say ill-gotten wealth, is snre to land us in
misery; but the object has associated itself with a pri-
mary impulse, and draws him on if some other motive
does not oppose.

There ia a circumstance that imparts force to this lat-
ter view. We find that when the secondary appetence
ceases to gratify the primary one, it is apt to be weak-
ened, and may in the end all but disappear, or appear
only as the result of an old habit. It is thus that so
many become disgusted with the objects which once they
desired so eagerly. The woman formerly loved is found,
or imagined to be, unworthy, mean, selfish, or corrupt,
may have ceased to afford the pleasure she at one time
did, or has wounded the vanity or thwarted some of the
favorite ends of her lover, and is henceforth avoided or
repelled. In this way all persona with correct moral
principle, or indeed with good sense, become wearied
with sensual indulgences, which are associated with re-
morse and filth. Fame and property may become bur-
densome, because of the cares and anxieties which they
bring.

Whichever of these theories we adopt, it must ever be
admitted that there are in the breasts of every irdivid-
nal natural appetences; these not merely the loye of

happiueas, which is acknowledged to be aniversal, but
varioua social instincts and sympathies. These tend to
act, in spite of the most adverse circumstances, and show
themselves in disappointed feelings when the means of
gratification are denied. In conducting this diacnasion,
we have come to discover a most important practical
principle; this is the most effective way of removing or
counteracting an evil appetence, or one we wish to be rid
of. Let us gather a set of associations round another ob-
ject of an opposite tendency. Let ua cure a low ambi-
tion by cultivating a high one ; and this may be done by
connecting it in our thoughts with some primary appe-
tence of a high character, such as the love of good to our-
selves or others. Lust is best corrected by cherishing a
pure love. Idleness or listlessness may be overcome by
determining to pursue a noble end. As we do so, our as-
sociations will cluster round the object, to which we will
be drawn by all the force of a primary affection.

SECTION VI.
HOT] yes.
In whatever way we may classify them or account for
their origin, the appetences are the motives which stir up
desire and lead to action. It is a hindrance in the way
of constructing a science of the mind that we have no
standard of measurement and no instmments, as they
have in physics (such as the barometer and thermom-
eter), for determining the force of the swaying powers
of the mind. Provided we had such a test, we might be
able to express definitely the respective relative strength
of the motives, and the result, when they combine with
and oppose each other. Without such measuring instru-
ment, all we can do is to observe and estimate in a gen-

26 FIRST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

eral way the tendcnciea and paths of the appetences, and
notice how they act with and against each other. In do-
ing BO psychical has a counterbalancing advantage over
physical science, as all the facts are within the mind and
immediately under the eye of consciousness.

It has often been said that if we had sufficient intel-
lectual ability and knew all the forces of nature we
might predict the courae of things through all futurity.
It may be declared, in like manner, that if we were
thoroughly conversant with the original springs of action
in every man, and of the circumstances in which he is
placed, we might foretell his coming career, barring any
question that may spring from the freedom of the will,
IE we knew all the motives (aa God doubtless knows
them) acting at every given time, we might account for
the most capricious conduct of men and women, even as
we can explain the movements of the wandering meteors
and eccentric comets.

But in fact the problem is far too complicated for
human sagacity to solve. The " problem of the three
bodies" is a very simple one compared with itj it is the
problem of a thousand bodies, crossing and recrossing,
some of them very close to, and crowding and jostling
each other. The considerations come in at all sorts of an-
gles to help or hinder each other, and to produce all man-
ner of paths, straight or curved or crooked. The course
of every man and his place at any given moment are de-
termined by attractions and repulsions, now drawing tliis
way and now drawing that way, acting with and against
each other in an indefinite and indefinable variety of
ways. But to ascertain and measure these would re-
quire a higher calculus than quaternions or quantics, or
the latest discovered mathematical instruments. The
path of some, and these often the must iuduential, men

-*•*

DIFFEBESCES OF APPETENCES IN INDIVIDUALS. 27

IB determined by one or a law strong passions acting in
very -varied circumstiinces, flueh as tlie love of pnwer or
of fame, wliich carry them along in an onward progress,
in which they move through opposition aa the vessel diies
through the waves. That of others is settled by fi vast
variety of induences, balancing each other, but held in by
outward circumstances and by prudence, and is like th:il
of a planet, regular and orderly. That of a third class is
more like that of a comet, attracted, indeed, towards a
centre, but driven away into remote distances. It ought
not to be forgotten that man has after all a power to
choose among competitors and complainants by the will
— the rudder which after all guides the course of the
vessel, even when it is impelled by sails or by oars, in-
clining now to the one side and now to the other.

SECTION vn.

SlPFBllEh'CES OF APPETENCES I

Some of these, such as the love of happiness and the
reverse, operate in the hearts of all men ; others, such as
the love of polite society and refinement, are confined to
a few. There are persona who are incapable of being
moved by ends which powerfully attract others : thus
their worldly substance so engrosses some that they can-
not understand how any one should set a high value on
knowledge ; while with others the thirst for leaniing
overpowers the love of gold and every other sordid dis-
position. Some inclinations seem to be personal and pe-
culiar to the individual, as you see in that youth a ten-
dency to solitary musing not known among Huy of his
kindred. Others are hereditary, and run in fumilies, it
may be penuriousness, or vanity, or the love of excite-
ment or of strong drink; or are characteristic of races,

■ 28 FIRST ELEMENT : APFETEKCES.

as the love of war or of conquest. Some are atroDg in
youth, and become weaker in old age, as the appetites
and tlie amorous affections with all their concomitants,
and very often also the love of gayety and small ambi-
tions. Some are apt to be strong in the female charac-
ter, such as the love of dress and of admiration, and sym-
pathy with joy and sorrow; others are, usually, stronger
in the mule sex, as pride, courage, and the love of advent-
ure and speculation. Some of the motives are fixed,
like a stationary engine drawing up freighted carriages
day and night, such as the love of power, and ambition
generally ; others, as the love of excitement and amuse-
ments, move on with circumstances, like the locomotive
advancing with its accompanying train.

In commonplace minda, indeed with a large body of
mankind, the main motives are simply the desire to se-
cure the ordinary gratification and avoid the common
annoyances of life, along with the gratification of the ap-
petites and some domestic affections. They eat, they
drink, they sleep; they do their necessary business; they
lay hold of the easily available enjoyments of society,
and avoid, more or less carefuU}', the pains inflicted by
natural laws ; and they thus pass through life doing lit^
tie evil and no good. Still, even in the bi-easts of such,
there will, at times, be deeper impulses making them-
selves felt, as a fit of passion, sorrow for the loss of a
fnend, a generous affection, a high aspiration, a reproach
of conscience, an awe from a supernatural power, —
showing that man has the remains of a higher nature in
him, but kept under by the lower appetences, as seeds
are by the snows and frosts of winter. It is the office
of religion, like the returning spring, to melt the ice and
awaken the seeds into life, and nourish them aright.

In Bome the passions are few and weak. In these

DIFFEHENCES OF APPETENCES IN INDIVIDUALS.

I
I

cases thfl temperament is apt to be dull, and the char-
acter feeble, though it is poBslble that there may he much
good sense and solid judgment, not liable to aberrations
from prejudice. These people act wisely, but are not
able to give impulse to others. Most men iiud women
are under a number of motives, no one of them being
very strong. The result is a mediocre character, which
may be good or evil, as it is directed. In some the
moving powers are so balanced that an equilibrium is
established, and you feel confident that the man will he
guilty of no extravagance or absurdity ; and this not
because of any moral quality, but simply because of an
equipoise of instincts. Some are moved by a few strong
passions, such as self-sufficiency, self-right eousueas, pride,
and hold their place in society. Others are moved by
benevolence, with its fountains and streams of tender-
ness and almsgiving, and by generous impulses of vari-
ous kinds, and they spread a happy influence in society.
Some are under the dominion of a few petty partialities
with enmities and friendships, and the result is an eccen-
tric character, with whims, oddities, foibles, and caprices.
Others are impelled by a number of strong tendencies ;
the passions are vehement, and there are attachments,
sympathies, lusts, spites, hatreds, revenges, all acting
with or contrary to each other. Such a combination,
when the capacities are weak, produces a weak and vac-
illating character; but if the intellectual talents be great,
a strong character for good or for evil, for friendship or
enmity, for defense or attack, for building or for destroy-
ing, for elevating or for disturbing a community, while
the man himself lives in a region of storms, and com-
plains of the opposition he is ever meeting with. These
are a few of the forms which natural character takes.

FIBST ELEMENT: APPETENCES,
SECTION vin.

COKBPIBING AFPICTGNCEa.

Sometimea the cords all draw in one and the aame di-
rection. The man is healthy ; he has all the comforts ol
life ; hia buaineaa ia proaperoua ; his family are united ; lie
is respected in the community; he ia not troubled with
amhitiouH aims; and he feels happy, — 'why should he
not? There are times when prodigious violence is the
result of a confluence of winds and waves. Henry VIII.
BO determinedly persetered in his purpose of procuring a
divorce, because wearied of his bigoted wife, in doubt as
to the lawfulness of his marriage, and in love with Anne
Boleyn. A man fleeing for his life, with death in pur-
suit, will bound over a stream into which in less stimu-
lating circumstances lie would fall and pei-ish, I have
known students, at a competitive examination, by a gath-
ering and concentration of force doing as much intel-
lectual work in a few hours as they could have done in
as many days without the combined atimulua of fame,
rivalry, and expected profit, Fram like combined causes
have proceeded, on great emergencies, bursts of extem-
poraneous eloquence, as that of Abraham Lincoln at
Gettysburg, such as could not have been produced by the
moat labored preparation. It ia not that the grand result
in such cases is the product of the moment ; there ia a
concentration of powers which have long been collecting,
a long gathering of the winds now bursting out in the
hurricane, a deposition for years which now falls on the
instant in the avalanche. It was thus that the love of in-
tellectual employment, of fame, and power, and a desire
to promote the glory of their country, all allured on an
A.lexaDder, a Gsesar, a Ifapoleon, to brilliant feats of con-

CONFLICTING APPETENCES.

quest. After a like manner, the man of a. devout iisiture,
Uke Mohammed and Cromwell, ia carried along as by a
trade-wind ; the power is within, but he feels as if it
were something without bim and above him, and culls it
the inspiration of the Almighty. Or, under very differ-
ent impulses, Bndiug that a long-coveted honor is denied
him, and roused into nngoverniible rage, he curses as bit-
terly as Shimei did and may threaten blows or murder.
Or, after long dreaming of soma expected elyaiiim, he
" wakes, and tinds his only hope lost." Or the conscience
is roused from its lethargy by an unexpected calamity,
and brings vividly before him divers aspects of one sin
after another, or of that one sin which haunts him like
a ghost, and a hell is created before the time, and he
feels as if torn by furies gnawing at his vitals.

SECTION IX.

CONFLICTINO AFFETE.VGES.

We have jnst seen that the motives may join their
streams and give great impetus and momentum to the
action. In other cases they cross each other, and this in
all sorts of ways. Sometimes they directly oppose and
thus arrest each other. Sometimes they clash, and pro-
duce distract ions. So the issue may be iniiction, or it
may be a compromise, or it may be a terrible fight.

Passions may contend in two ways. First there may
he the operation at one and the same time of two incon-
sistent propensities : there may be, on the one hand, am-
bition or a love of money prompting to action, and on
the other a love of ease and of immediate pleasure, in-
clining to repose; or there may be a sense of duty re-
sisting a desire to please or a lust for sensual gratifieation.
Were the two equally balanced, they might counteract

82 FIHST ELEMENT : APPETENCES,

each other, and inaction be the statical result.^ "We see
this in so mjiny who would liite to gain a certain end but
are hindered by a fear of difficulties or by conscience,
and who have to content themselyes with doing nothing,
except perhaps cherishing sullenness, or who become dis-
tracted by reason of the striving of winds and waves,
there being all the while no onward movement.

But more frequently both passions act. On the prin-
ciple of the parallelogram of the forces, the man follows
an intermediate course. This is apt to be the case with
your prudent man, who takes as much of pleasure as he
can have without injuring his health or reputation. Or,
the man gives in now to one motive, and now to another,
and he goes by fits and starts, or is known as a man of
shifts and expedients. "When the motives are not strong,
his conduct is tremulous, like the sea when rippled by the
breezes. When they are more powerful, the chai'acter
seems eccentric or untrustworthy, or inconsistent to the
world. " He that wavereth is like a wave of the sea."
" A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways,"
We feel that we cannot confide in him, for the motives
which swayed him to-day do not influence him to-mor-
row. His course is a zigzag one, perhaps an interrupted
one, and regarded by all as a contradictory one. In
most cases the forces are not equal, and the path pursued
is curved, perhaps crooked. Sometimes a number of af-
fections are in activity at one and the same time, pro-
ducing an orbit more difficult to determine than that of
the solar system among the stars. The result is apt to
be a constant variation, or an unstable equilibrium se-

1 " Did you ever Bee a blacksmith shoe a restlees horse % If ;ou have,
fOu h&ve seen him take a emnll cord and tie the upper lip. Ask hitn what
he docs it for, he vill tell ;oii it gives ihe beast something to think about."
WendeU FhiUIpa's Spwcho and Ledurtt.

CONFLICTING APPETENCES. 33

cured by multiplied balancings ever liable to be de-
ranged.

Or, secondly, the conflict may arise from the regurgita-
tions of one and the same appetence, as now the stream
flows on and is gratified, and again is beat back by cir-
cumstances, as by a rock, and is disappointed. The af-
fection is the same, but the circumstances and the idea
differ, as now there is the appetible to attract, but forth-
with the inappetible to repel. Thus love may lead the
man to dote on the person loved, or be jealous of her ;
now it looks as if he were ready to lay down his life for
her, and anon as if he were resolved to take away her
life, according as he regards her as returning his affec-
tion or favoring a rival.

The conflicts may be keen and long continued be-
tween the flesh and the spirit, between passion and pru-
dence, between the love of earthly enjoyment and the
attainment of a high ideal. Often do these conflicting
passions produce a fearful agitation, like that of the Bay
of Biscay, by the meeting of several tides or currents.
The source and the power are deep down in the heart,
but they appear on the surface in lashings, crestings, and
foam. The person feels his state to be intolerable, but
cannot stay it. We see it strikingly exhibited in times
of suspense, in which, let it be observed, while there is
a suspense of the judgment, there is no suspense of the
appetences. A critical event is at hand, which is to de-
termine for good or for evil our destiny for life. An
office for which we are a candidate is to be settled, or an
important offer has been made, which has to be accepted
or rejected. What elevations and depressions, what
hopes and fears, as the person looks now at the one
side, and now at the other, and as chances seem favor-
able or unfavorable I If in the mean time steps have to

84 FIKST ELEMENT: APPETENCES.

be taken to secure the issue, the exertion may so brace
the frame as to keep it from brooding on tlie results.
But if the person has simply to wait, then what alterna-
tions of heights and hollows I What agony on the part
of the prisoner when the jiiry has retired and has not
returned to announce the verdict I What tumultuous
waves move through the bosom of the mother, as she sits
watching by the sick-bed of her child through that dismal
night which she knows to be the crisis of the fever. Or
information reaches her that the vessel in which she
knows her son was has been shipwrecked ; she is so
situated that weeks must elapse before she can learn
whether he was actually drowned. And what weeks I
How long they are I And what terrible tremors by day
and visions at night 1 the very hopes which she momen-
tarily cherishes revealing, what the lightning flash does,
only the circumambient darkness. What nps and downs,
what exaltations and sinkings of heart, as the lover
waits for the answer to hia proposal. Some have felt
the anxiety to be so intense that they wish for the an-
swer to come, even though it should be adverse, rather
than continue longer in this state of crucifying apprehen-
sion.

In many cases the combination is chemical rather than
mechanical, and there is a boiling and a fermentation.
A mother hears of her son being slain on the field of
battle, fighting bravely for his country, and having only
time, ere he expired, to send one message, and that of
undying love to her. There is necessarily a terrible out-
burst of grief, as she thinks how he died, far away from
her, with none to stanch his wounds, and that she will
never see him again in this world. But then that son
was generous and brave, and he remembered me in his
last conscious moments, and I would rather be the

DOMINANT APPETENCES.

mother of that son than of a king or an emperor. But
all this only intensifies her sorrow, when she reflects that
this son is now torn from her. In ail such cases each
natnral feeling works its proper effect io so far reliev-
ing, or it may be intensifying, those oombineil with it.
What a horror of thick darkness, when the mother has
to brood over the grave of a son who died in a fit of
dninkeoness I

SECTION X

There are some in whom there are a tew dominant
passions ; some in whom there ia only one, — the love of
the miser for his gold, of the ambitious man for power,
of a lover for his mistress, of a mother for her children.
To this last class may be referred the man of one idea,
that is, of a favorite project, which may m;ike him a
somewhat troublesome member of society; but if the
idea be good, may so concentrate his thoughts and in-
tensity bis energies, which others waste, as to enable
him to accomplish an important end. In cases where
the intellect ia weak and the views narrow, you have
the angular man, the man of crotchets and hobbies. The
primary appetence genders others, which feed and sup-
port it. The one passion becomes the centre round
which other agencies circulate, — associated ideas, plana
and projects, private and public interests with daily ac-
tivities, — as planets do round the sun, and satellites
round the planets. It may come to be the impelling and
the guiding power of the whole life, of the affections
which cherish it, and of the actions which are the execu-
tion of it. The product is commonly an energetic charac-
ter, which pursues a path of its own, and moves along
like a steam-engine upon the rails set for it, with irresist-

riKST ELEMENT : APPETENCES,

ibie power and great speed. Weaker natures have to
bend before it, as trees do before the tempest. Men thus
moved and moving often come to have sway over their
districts, over their states, over continents, and over ages
to come. It baa to be added that they often meet with
opposition from men as determined as themselves, and fire
is struck by the collision, and they have to rattle on over
flinty rocks ; or they are arrested in their course, and per-
haps are burned as martyrs. Which of these issues is to
follow may depend on their intellectual force, or on the
preparedness of the age to receive them.

The ruling passion differs, of course, in different indi-
viduals. In some cases it leads to deeds of self-sacrifice
and devotion which may be regarded aa sublime, as
when Horatius of old kept the bridge, and Leonidas
withstood the Persians at Thermopylge ; aa when the
mother hesitates not to risk lier life in defense of her
child, and the sister nurses a brother in a raging fever
breathing infection all around, and the martyr dies for
the faith. In many cases it is partly for good and partly
for evil, as the love of fame when it leads to dashing
feats, but may be accompanied with sour Jealousy and
biting envy, which attacks reputations and disturbs the
peace of the community. When the actor is of weak
capacity, he is driven along by his passion, as the ship
with full-spread sail, but without ballast, or rudder, or
compass, is by the winds and waves. When the motive
is totally self-regarding, as it is in the case of the miserly,
the ambitious, the intemperate, the licentious, it burns
within like a fire, absorbing all things into itself, even the
powers that oppose it, and devouring them in its flame,
which may spread all around and become the bane of
the community. When it is thwarted, as it is constantly
liable to be, very possibly by the very obstacles it has

UNDEVELOPED APPETENCES. 37

raised up, its agitations become as noisy and restless as
tlioae of the ocean upon an opposing precipice. When
it 18 totally and finally diBappointed, as it must oiten be,
then the bearer and the eherisher oE it. Napoleon Bona-
parte for instance, at St. Helena, is like an imprisoned
Tulture nibbling restlessly at its cage.

In all cases the heavy weight is apt to disturb the equi-
librium of the soul, which becomes misshapen unil would
be the better of being balanced by some other affections.
It fortunately happens that certain minor tastes and
kindly dispositions often come in to soften the hardness
and selfishness of the character. Macaulay, absorbed in
literature, was willing it any time to tnm aside from
it to write for the amusement of the relatives lie loved.
What a relief to the business man to unbosom himself iu
the evening in his family, who may regale him with pleas-
ant games, or reading, or music I The fanatic Robes-
pierre bad a redeeming feature in his love for his dog and
for the lower animals. I knew the mother of an illegiti-
mate child, who, for fear of exposure, murdered her infant,
but labored tbrougii long, wearisome days to support her
mother. Tradition reports that Robin Hood and Rob
Roy gave large portions of their plunder to the poor.

SECTION XI.

UNDEVELOPED APPETENCES.

We have seen that there are native tendencies to ac-
tion in all men. All of these do not have an outlet at
every given time; some of them may never find a chan-
nel. In the breast of every child there is a whole host
of Buch appetences, ready to come forth like buds in
spring. The constant activity of youth arises partly
from organic life, but it is excited mainly by the mental

38 FIRST ELEMENT : APPETENCES.

cravings. It ia said that there is as nrnch energy laid up
in a dew-drop as would make a thunder-storm; there ia
certairdy power in the breast of that infant suEBcient to
produce immortal results. There ia force pressing in all
directions, laid up and ready to burst out when an open-
ing is made. The appetences are the varied sources of
the life of youth ; as the rain which has fallen into the
ground, and runs there in gathered rills, is the feeder of
our fountains. The expression of the desires oE the young
is, " Who will show us any good? " and they are grateful
to any one who will give them employment in accordance
with their longings ; and you see them running to every
pretentious spectacle, and dancing round the blaze of
crackling thorns. If a lawful means of expending their
energy is not allowed, it will break out in lawless ways ;
making it so important to keep youth hnsy, if we would
keep them out of evil.

Some boys and girls do not show a particular ten-
dency towards any one kind of activity, but seem ready
for any kind ol work. Others early begin to run along
certain marked lines : towards their father's occupation,
or towards merchandise, or towards books ; towards mu-
sic, or painting, or mechanics, or travel, or science, or
philosophy, or practical beneScence. Sometimes it is a
long time, and only after repeated failures in roads on
which he has entered, that the young man falls in with or
finds his appropriate sphere and work. One who expected
to be a scholar has to go to business ; and one, like Hugh
Miller, who has tried a trade rises to be a man of sci-
ence. I felt myself, and I believe others liave felt, in the
state between youth and manhood, an indefinable longing,
coming out like the sighing of a stream in the quiet of
the evening, and asking for a settled work in the morn-
ing. It is the unuttered prayer of a spirit, which has

UNDEVELOPED APPETENCES. 89

nnnsed capacities, craving for an object and for employ-
ment.

When they are not allowed to come out, the appe-
tences smoulder like a suppressed fire. There may be
such in the breasts of persons advanced in life. The
virgin may never meet with one to whom she chooses to
unite Lerself, but she has all the sensibilities which
would make her happy with one she loved. There is an
affection in the mother, ready to claap her infant aa
soon as it is born. Many a boy lias fine impulses which
his teacher has not the skill to call forth. There are
men and women who have capacities for friendships and
benevolences which they have restrained from timidity or
from selfishness, and which, therefore, have become gradu-
ally dried up. We must all have met with middle-aged
or old men, possessed of great talents and wide aspira-
tions, but who have never found their proper field to work
in, and who feel unhappy in consequence, as they expend
their strength on insignificant objects. They remind nie
of Napoleon in Elba, devoting the intellect which used to
combine armies to small farming operations. At times
a conjuncture will Call forth a capacity which has hitherto
lain dormant, as the seed which had been in the mummy
for thousands of years will burst forth in open air and a
congenial soil. Thus, the death of a father has called
forth energies of a hitherto inactive son, and the death
of the husband has revealed hitherto unknown capaci-
ties of exertion and management in his widow.

Any one looking into the mind of a child may discover
capabilities there which are to fit it for a sphere in this
world. But may we not discover in the soul endow-
ments and aspirations, which do not find their fitting
action in this, but seem to be intended for another and
1 higher sphere ? How many cuttings are trained in a

40 FIRST ELEMENT : APrETENCES.

nursery here, only to be torn np, but in Bueh a way and
with such gifta as to show that they are to bo ti-aua-
planted into a better soih There are longings in man
which can be satisfied with nothing less than with God.

SECTION xn.

The phrase might be applied to those who have no
very strong appetences of any kind. They may Lave
good intellectual abilities; when a work is forced upon
them by circumstances, they may do it thoroughly and
effectively; and from the very fact that they have no
predilections, they may pass a very sound judgment on
a case submitted to them. But their temperament, it is
said, is sluggish, and they undertake no great work.

But the phrase seems rather to be applicable to one
who has lost a motive which he at one time liad. A wife
(I have known many such) has tried for a long time to
win back the affection of a husband, or to save him from
intemperance. But all her efforts have failed, and when
she comes to the conclusion that they must fail for tlie
future she ceases to exert hereelf. Her whole character
and manner are now marked by listlessness. She feels
that it is vain to try to please, and her person and her
household come to be neglected. The only means of
saving her is to furnish to her a ground of hope by the
reformation of her husband, or, we have to add, by his
death. Much the same state of feeling is apt to be
superinduced when one who has long toiled at business
finds in old age that his plans have utterly broken down.
He feels that there is nothing left him but to give him-
self to apathy, from which there is no means of rousing
him. Happy, surely, are those who in siR^h a position
have motive and hope to start ior a better world I

THE MOTIVELESS MAN.

The most painful cases aro those in which the man
has lost motive of every kind. He has failed, or he im-
agines that he has failed, in so many things that his
habitual sentiment is that nothing wil! succeed with him.
It is of no use laying any proposed line of action betora
bitu ; he will scarcely listen to it, or, if he does so for a
moment, it is only to sink back into indifference. But
meanwhile he is not in the negative and blank position
of one who is utterly devoid of incentives. For there
may be ambitious inclinations lying within, in a smoul-
dering state, which he keeps down simply because he
feels that they cannot be gratified, and which have a
suflocating effect upon him. With fine capacities of
thought and action, he may give himself up to a life of
I lassitude. Or, making one other ecstatic eSort
issuing in failure, he may abandon himself to despair, or
terminate an intolerable existence by suicide.

CHAPTER n.

BECOND BLSMENT: THE IDEA (PHANTASM).
SECTION I.

KATUBB OF THE IDKA WHICH CALLS FORTH EMOTION.

It is of an object fitted to gratify or to disappoint an
appetence of the niitid. The mere existence of the ap-
petence 83 a tendency or disposition is not sufficient to
call forth feeling, though I have no doubt it is ever
prompting it, or rather by the law of association stii-ring
up the idea which gives it a body. There must always
be an idea carrying out the appetence to call the emo-
tion into actual exercise. If the object be before us,
of course we have a perception of it by the senses or
we are conscious of it within onr minds. If it be not
present we have a remembrance of it, or we have formed
an imagination of it. That object may be mental or
material, may be real or imnginary, may be in the past,
the present, or the future ; but there must always be a
representation of it in the mind. Let a man stop him-
self at the time when passion is rolling like a river, he
will find that the idea is the channel in which it fiows.
An idea is as much needed as a pipe is to conduct gas
and enable it to fiame ; shut up the couduit and the feel-
ing will be extinguished.

Other things being equal, the emotion rises and falls
according as the idea takes in more or leas of the appet-
ible. I am told that a dear relative of mine has fallen

NATDRE OF IDEA WHICH CALLS FORTH EMOTION.

From a great bright and ia dangerouBly injurud. I Lave
a viyid image of that friend as in deep diatreas, and 1 am
affected with sorrow and with pity. But I am told soon
after that the account brought me is so far mistaken : »
person had fallen, but he ia no fnend of mine, and the
peculiar tenderness of my feeling ia removed. On mak.
iug further inquiry, I find that though he f«ll fiom a
height he ia not seriously hurt, aud my pity ceasos. Ex-
amine any other case of emotion and you will always
discover an idea as the substratum of the whole, bearing
it up as the stake does the hving vine. I hare cotne to
see tliat a favorite and long-cheriahed project of mine
may possibly succeed, and I have a faint hope. As
events move on, I find that it will probably succeed, and
my hope, thus supplied with fuel, kindles into a flame.
After a time it becomes certain that I will attain my end,
and I have now a settled expectation. My scheme is at
last crowned with success, and I have joy. But the
crown of green branches placed on my brow begins to
wither, I am exposed to blighting cares, envy, and
trouble, and there remains nothing but the dead stock
of disappointment. Emotion has thus aa its body an
idea, which determines the life and gi'owth, the decay
and death, of the inner spirit.

The idea which thus awakens feeling is not an ab-
stract or general notion. Pity is called forth by the con-
templation, not of humanity in the abstract, but of sen-
tient beings, ourselves or others, exposed to suffering.
The dread vfhich moves us is not of evil in general, but of
some individual evil or evils, such as pain, bereavement,
ill usage, insult, contempt, contumely ; emotion is excited
when we have an idea of ourselves or others exposed to
these or such as these. The mental state is best ex-
preaaed by an apt Aristotelian phrase which some of us

44 SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

are seeking to revive, phantaim,'^ the faculty from which
it proceeds being the phantasy. The phantasy presenta
a picture of ourselves or others, of a man, woman, or
child in sorrow, and our commiseration flows forth apace,
all this because we have a fountain within, which how-
eyer needs an outlet.

The phantasm must be of an object which addresses
the appetence in the way of gratifying or disappoint-
ing it. It must appeal to our desire for pleasure or ap-
plause, to our friendship, or to some one or other of the
motives which draw mankind. There are some springs
of action which seem to sway all men, such as the love
of happiness and the desire to please. There are others
which are confined to classes or individuals, as the love
of money, the love of dress, or of a mother for her boy.
The considerations which sway the people of one age,
sex, or condition, do not necessarily influence all others
or any others. The savage is not apt to be interested in
refinements, nor the boy in abstract science; both require
to have the taste created. Nobody in the company may
feel an interest in that girl except her lover, who watches
her every motion. Appeals which powerfully affect cer-
tain persons have no influence on others. The tale of
distress which brings tears and alms from this man,
meets with no response from that miser whose soul is
bound up in bis money bags. Even Peter the Hermit
could not stir up a crusade of modern armies to recover
the Holy Sepulchre. Protestants cannot be made to
enter into the enthusiasm of pilgrimages to holy shrines.
Modern science has undermined not a few superstitious
f^iitlis, which led to practices now regarded as degrading
or cruel. One of the grand ends aimed at by education
n the langaage 1

NATURE OF IDEA WHICH CALLS FORTH EMOTION. 45

and by the church should be to implant and cherish high
tastes and aspirations.

In looking more particularly at the nature of the ideas
which raise emotion, it will be found, I believe, that
they are singular, that is of individual objects, I have
not seen this position laid down anywhere; but I am
prepared to defend it, always with the proper explana-
tions and limitations. It is the phantasm that awakens
sentiment. But all phantasms are singular. The phan-
tasm of a lily is of one lily. The general notion or
concept of lily, that is lily in general, is of an indefinite
number of lilies, joined by their common type. There
is commonly a phantasm involved in the general notion,
but it is of a single one, stripped of as many peculiarities
as pOBsible, of the individuals which constitute the class,
and the phantasm does not constitute the class, but is
merely a sign or representative to enable us to think of
it. There are various intellectual operations involved in
the concept "man," that is man in general, but the
image before the mind is of one man, with the things
that distinguish one man from another left out as much
aa possible. Now the idea that evokes feeling is not of
humankind in the general, or of humanity in the ab-
stract, but of a man, woman, or child in a state of hap-
piness or of distress.

But this truth, which is a very important one, requires
to be restricted and properly understood ; otherwise it
will evidently be false. Under singular ideas are evi-
dently to he included collective ones, in which we have
an aggregate of individuals, as a congregation, an army.
In the ideas are to be comprehended their associations,
as those which collect around our birthplace and our
hume. A man loves his family, his village, his school,
his college, his shop, his regiment, his farm, his work-

SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

shop, hiB country, and his churcb. CLubs and societieE
often gather round them nn intense interest. There is a
sense in which even abstractions and generalizations
may call forth feeling, by reason of the individuals em-
braced in them and their associatioiis, which may con-
vey their sentiment to that which combines them. The
appeals by orators to liberty, to order, to love, or to re-
ligion, may have a stimulating influence, and rouse to
action. But the feeling is called forth by the associated
ideas of persons, many or few, in whom we feel an in-
terest. It is alwaj'3 the objects, and not our intellectual
separations and combinations of them, which call forth
emotion.^ Whenever abstractions become very refined,
or generalizations very wide, so as to be utterly separate
from the objects, they cease to evoke feeling, which
always comes forth most vividly and strongly when the
living beings are set before us personally, as gratifying,
or frustrating an affection of our nature.

We talk of mankind loving the beautiful and the good,
of their delighting in nature, and being awed with the
sublime. If we understand these declarations simply as
general expressions of individual truths, they may be
allowed to pass. But if we interpret them as meaning
that there is emotion raised by the beautiful, the grand,
the good, in the general or iti the abstract, they leave
an erroneous impression. No man ever had liis heart
kindled by the abstract idea of loveliness, or sublimity,
or moral excellence, or any other abstraction. That
which calls forth our admiration is a lovely scene, that
which raises wonder and awe is a grand scene, that
which calls forth love is not loTelinesa, in tlie abstract,
but a lovely and loving person. That which evokes

1 ArisCDtle has remnrked that common notions (NiHS^aTa) are not with-
out phantasma {aix irm fiariir/ivrar]. De Anita, iii. T.

' IDEA WHICH CALLS FORTH EMOTION.

moral approbation is not virtue in tlie abstract, but a
virtuous agent performing a virtuous act. In short, it is
not the abstract but the concrete, not the generalizations
of the comparative power, but objeeta animate and in-
animate, perceived or imaged, wbicli awaken our emo-
tional nature.

If those views be correct they furnish certain impor-
tant practical results.

(1.) We see how feeling is to be raised, either iu our
own breasts or in those of others. Feeling, it is evi-
dent, cannot be compelled. It will not ilow at our bid-
ding, or simply in consequence of a voluntary deter-
mination on our part ; we may resolve and resolve again,
but no commands, threats, or terrors will make it uulock
its fountains. And if it will not come from our own
bosom in obedience to an order, still less can we eicpect
it to flow from those of others because we require it.
Nor is it sufficient to address the conscience, and to show
that emotion ought to flow, for it will rather delight at
times to rebel against an imposed authority. Are our
feelings, then, as some would maintain, beyond our con-
trol ? Do they rise and fall like the winds, how and
when they list ? Do they flow and ebb like the tides, in
obedience to impulses, which we can no mure rule than
Canute could command the waves of the ocean? Were
this so, man would indeed be in a most helpless condi-
tion, more so than the sailor without a rudder in his
ship, or the slave obliged to submit to the caprice of his
master. But though a man may not be able to com-
mand his sensibilities directly, he has complete power
over them indirectly. He can guide and control, if not
the feeling itself, at least the idea, which is the channel
iu which it flows. He may not be able to move his
heart to pity by an act of the will, but he can call up

SECOND ELEMENT : THE IDEA.

a representation of a sufferer, and the compassion will
burst out. Or better atiil, be can visit the house of
mourning, be can enter the abode of the poor, the sick,
the forlorn, the outcast, and as he witnesses their miserj',
or HsteuB to their tale of sorrow, his heart — if heart he
has — will swell and heave with emotion. Ha can thus
call up laudable sentiments, and thus too he can restrain
desires, which would degrade, trouble, carnalize, or pol-
lute the soul. Were he simply to resolve to conquer
them by a strong act of will, he might fail. But he may
be able to banish the unholy idea by calling in a more
elevating one ; he may remove the object out of the way,
or remove out of the way of the object, and the Same
left without its feeder will die out. As man can thus
control his feelings, he is responsible for them, for their
perversion, for their excess, and defect.^

(2.) We see how powerless all those systems, whether
of professed religion or morality, must be, which do not
set before us a living and a loving God, to call forth
toward Him our feelings of admiration and affection.
Pantheism would substitute the love of the good for the
love of God. We do not purpose, its advocates say, to
do away with piety and adoration, we would rather
purify and exalt them ; let men be taught to admire
the grand, the perfect, the infinite, to love the fair, the
beautiful, the good. We might meet this on the ground

1 It was a favoriCe maxim of Che Stoi<:a that passioD, irifflai,
opiaian, Hiv, O'' jud^tmeDt, KpUis (s«e Cicero, Tusc. Dii. iv. 6|, and heTii:e
thej drew the piaclical cuntlnsion, that bj judgment people could reneh
the litiBtia which [he sect ao com mended. The doctrine coutHined a truth,
onlj' it was bet(«T expreasud hy Ari'itutle, who said afiection iiiiplieil
^iaraaiia. The cocclusion of the SCoici did not foUow, for there are ap-
petences in onr nature independent of judgment, and the ideas which
generate affections are governed hy associatiuna whii:b can oul/ be cuua-
nneted bj other associutiong.

NATUEE OF IDEA WHICH CALLS FORTH EMOTION. 49

that it 18 setting aside the living and the true God, in
favor of a creature, or rather fiction, of the human mind.
But it concerns na rather at present to show that it con-
tradicts some of the essential principles of hum^n nature.
The contemptiition of the beautiful and the good, apart
from a beautiful and good object, cannot evoke deep or
lively emotion. Unless we place before the mind a per-
sonal, a living, acting, benevolent God, the affections
wUl not be drawn towards Him, On the same principle,
the injunction or the recommendation of virtue in the
abstract, as was done in so many of the pulpits, and by ao
many of the ethical writers of Great Britain in the mid-
dle of the last centurj', is found to be utterly powerless
upon the heart, character, and conduct, inasmuch as it is
in no way fitted to move, to interest, or engage the affec-
tions or any of the deeper principles of our nature. It is
after a very different, and I maintain a much more philo-
sophic manner, that the inspired writers proceed, in in-
teresting the heart and swaying the conduct of raantind.
They present to our faith a living God and a loving Sa-
viour, and would thus attract the affections and form the
character and influence the life.

(3.) Our doctrine admits an application to the art of
rhetoric, as showing how feeling is to be excited. We
are never, indeed, to neglect the more important task of
enlightening and convincing the understanding in the
view of impressing the sensibility. If the judgment is
not convinced, feeling will be merely like the fire fed by
straw, blazing for a time, it may be, to be speedily extin-
guished, with only ashes remaining. But in order to
secure consideration by the understanding, or when the
understanding has been gained, it may be of advantage
or it may be necessary to interest the heart. Now we
have seen in what way the feelings are to be gained. No

50 SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

man ever stirred up feeling by simply showing that we
ought to fee!. Still less will it be roused by bigh sound-
ing exclamations, such as '• how lovely," " how good,"
"how snbtime." Commoupliice orators shout and rave
in this way, without exciting in the breast of those who
listen to them any feeling, except it be one of wonder,
how they should seem to be bo warm when they are say-
ing nothing fitted to warm ua. A steady tide will be
raised only where there is a body like the moon attracting
the waters. He who would create admiration for good-
ness must exhibit a good being performing a good action.
He who would draw out comp;iasion must bring before
ua a person in distress. He who would rouse indignation
must expose to us a deed of cowardice, deceit, oi' cruelty.
Or if he would stir up gratitude he must show ua favors
conferred upon us. The most moving orators have al-
ways dealt with incidents, tales, pictures, parables, fur-
nishing living exhibitions of life. The Evangelists call
forth deeper feeling by their simple narratives than they
could have done by the most high-flown rhetoric. They
never interpose between us and the object to which they
call our attention, so as to obstruct the light that comes
from it, by remarks of their own ; but standing out of
the way and keeping themselves out of sight, they allow
us to look on Him and see "the king in liia beauty."
It is thus that the greatest of all teachers speaks. Pro-
ceeding on some deep spiritual or moral principle, he
troubles with no dry and mummied abstractions, with no
complicated ratiocination. Sir W. Hamilton said that the
most satisfactory reasoning is that in which there is only
one link between the premises and conclusion. Our Lord
fixes, by means of a picture, a truth in our mind which at
once recommends itself to our convictions and chUs forth
feeling. He spoke as one who had command of the deep-
est springs of our nature, and " not as the scribes."

NATDEE OF IDEA WHICH CALLS FORTH EMOTION. 51

(4.) We see what is the language best fitted to raise
feeling. For scientific purposes we are obliged to take
terms fi-om the Greek and Latin tongues. But these are
not fitted to raise emotion, they always have the stiff
bearing of a foreign language ; and should be used m
poetry, moving oratory, and nari-ative only when neces-
sary to give clearness and accuracy of thinking.

I can conceive a language, like the mannei-s of some
men, becoming too artifleial. I have sometimes felt that
the French tongue, unmatched for its clartg, for its clean-
cut forms, its transparency, and its capacity for reducing
abstruse truth to simplicity, is not so well adapted for
eloquence and poetry that touches the heart. Happily
our own tongue — and the same may be said of the Ger-
man — has retained amid all its improvements the words
that are life-like and home-like. The great body of
them have descended — as our freshest streams do from
the mountains — from a simple state of life, and they
come to us with the character and the impress of the
condition of society in which they originated. They re-
semble in this respect the man who has risen in the
world from the lower ranks, and who ia now admitted,
because of his talents and integrity, into the most polite
circles ; and this though he has not been able to shake
himself altogether free from the manners of his youth.
This may to some extent be a disadvantage in scientific
thought, which needs an accurate nomenclature. But it
is to a far larger extent a benefit that language has come
down to us from a more natural state of things, just as
the most refined circles are all the better at times for the
infusion of fresh elements. The best langus^e ia that
which has both kinds of phrases, — which retains the
freshness of youth in the midst of the maturity of age. I
have observed that the words that have descended from a

52 SECOND ELEMENT : THE IDEA.

more primitive state of things are those which occur to us
moat readily when we are expressing deep and heartfelt
feeling. It is recorded of Burke, and is said of Carlyle,
that thongh both used very complex forms in their writ-
ings, they were apt in familiar intercourse with their
friends to return, the one to the simple Irish, and the
other to the Scotch idiom of their boyhood. I have no-
ticed that some of onr greatest orators, in their most
moving passages, use tlie old Saxon phrases which are
redolent of genuine feeling.

(5.) Let H3 guard the fountains of the affections, or,
in better words, " Keep thy heart with all diligence ; for
out of it are the issues of life." It is of vast moment, it
should always be proclaimed, to have the mind widened
by the refined analyses and grand generalizations of phi-
losophy and science. These give an extended view of the
world in which we live, and so enlarge the comprehen-
sion and elevate the soul. But there is a risk that in
being carried to these heights the warm current of life
within be frozen, and in this case the loss is immeasur-
ably greater than the gain. There are metaphysicians
who have injured the health and the very color of the
soul, by dwelling exclusively in the region of the ab-
stract ; and scientists who feel no interest in the indi-
vidual because of their enthusiasm about the universal.
But there is no real inconsistency between the two: it
is not fatally necessary when the head is being cleared
that the heart should be rendered colder. While our
knowledge of tJie general laws which regulate man and
nature is expanded, let us take great care that we do not
lose our interest in individual scenes and persons. This
double advantage can be had only by our retaining our
natural tastes alongside of our attainments, and by our
returning from these excursions into remote regions with

WORKS OF FICTION. 63

renewed zest to what we should feel to be the most en-
deared of all spots, — the home of the affections.

SECTION n.

WORKS OF

Every one knows thiit the feelings are capable of
being moved by imaginary as well ;is by real scenes.
People weep over the distresses of the heroine of a novel,
as they do over actual soiTOW ; they glory in tlie success
of a hero on the stage as they do in the exploits of one
who once lived on the earth. How are we to account
for this ? Do we believe for the instant that the scenes
are real ? The common theory is that we do so. But is
it necessary to resort to such a supposition ? It is not
judgment or belief which stirs up emotion, but the phan-
tasm of an object fitted to gratify or disappoint an affec-
tion. It is the very idea of a human being in trouble,
that raises pity ; of a virtuous man triumphing, that ex-
cites admiration. It we Lave a tender or sympathetic
nature we cannot contemplate a sensitive being as ex-
posed to suffering, without being moved. What the
novelist does is to present the picture, and the feeling
goes toward the object. He often makes the representa-
tion so vivid that it evokes keener excitement than the
common scenes of life. The effect of the stage sceuery
and the acting is to make the whole more lively. lu
order to emotion, there does not seem to be any need of
a belief in a positive existence. All that is required is
that unbelief do not interpose to keep us from taking in
the scene. Hence it is needful for the novelist, the au-
thor, and the actor, to make all the accompaniments as
probable and plausible as possible, lest unbelief scatter
the idea and with it the feeling. I do not know that

64 SECOND ELEMENT : THE IDEA.

belief, tlie result of judgment, ever raises feeling, but
when it is Buperinduced upon anappetible idea it se-
cures its con til malice. I acknowledge the need of a be-
lief in the i-eality of the vision, to keep the eye steady
and prevent it from being distracted by the other objects
constantly pressing themselves on the attention.

It is to gratify the appetences of our nature by means
of ideas, calling forth feeling ivith its excitements and
attachments, that tales have been invented, first recited,
then written, and then printed. This invention is usu-
ally ascribed to the imagination by critics, who do not
tell us what the imagination is. No doubt the tales do
gratify the imagination, which (like every other power
of the mind) delights to he exercised both in its imaging
and its compounding powers, by compounding meaning,
putting materials into new forms and dispositions. But
the pictures will not please unless they possess? a human
interest, and call forth the emotions which are the pow-
ers specially exercised and gi-atified. It has always ap-
peared to me that Shelley's poetry is addressed to the im-
agination rather than the feelings, and hence will never
exercise a powerful popular influence, like that of Burns,
of Goldsmith, and Longfellow.

People at all ages of life and of all times delight in
such creations. Infants have dolls, which perform a
jiart in a drama which they are weaving. How eagerly
do children listen to stories by their mothers and nurses,
Hnd are specially moved by scenes of adventure, like
Robinson Crusoe, or the Pilgrim's Prioress, or of unmer-
iled suffering, as the Babes in the Wood. In later years,
. people are apt not only to have night dreams but day
dreams ; and many indulge in building aerial castles.
The rudest nations have their myths, expressing their
prejudices, their prides, and their revenges. The Ara-

WORKS OF FIOTION.

bians have Lad their " thousand and one tales " recited
at their camp-fires. . Aa nations advance a stage farther,
their imstgiQations, still emotional, become enshrined in
poetry, which in most cases comes before written prose.
At a later stage we have romances, which at first are apt
to deal with the monstrous and the supernatural, and
which, as they are sobered down by the critical judgment,
become the modern novel, which professes to exhibit act-
ual life always in its emotional aspects.

It cannot be donbted that dramatists and novelists
have added considerably to our knowledge of human nat-
ure, in some respects more than metaphysicians or his-
torians, or even biographers. Metaphysicians can give
ua only the principles which operate at all times and are
the s^me in all men, but do not let us into the springs
which influence individual men, women, and children, at
partii-'ular times. Historians give us events and exhibit
actors; but there is no window by which they can look
into the souls of the actors, and we can only guess at the
motives by which they are swayed. It ia the same, to
some extent, with biographers: they may have no means
by which to ascertain the motives leading to the acts
which they detail; even when they have a diary, it raay
not aid them very much, for the person whose life is writ-
ten may be as ignorant of what has swayed him as the
person who writes his life. In saying so, I do not mean
to undervalue those sources of information, which, imper-
fect as they are, are often the only ones at onr command.
But our knowledge of mankind is to be obtained after all
from the inspection of ourselves, and from mingling with
mankind in family and social intercourse, and in the
transactions of business. In plays and tales the writers
take up peculiarities of character, which we may not
meet with every day, and exhibit them in infinitely diver-

56 SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

Bified circumatanceB. Shakespeare ia not always qaite ac-
curate in hia history ; nor does he always give the right ai^
count of the queen, king, warrior, or statesman ; but he is
ever true to human natnre, and the characters deacribed,
if not invariably real, might have been real. Some think
we may get a deeper acquaintance with human nat-
ure from the study of Shakespeare than from the read-
ing of any historical work on the perioda which he has
sketched. There are other authoi's, such as Scott, and,
I may add, George Eliot, who have seized on certain pe-
culiarities of human character and exhibited them mth
amazing skill. But, on the other hand, no class of writers
are bo apt to mislead ua, or do in fact mialead so many
readers in the present day, when novels are ao devoured.
Interesting tales have been written by peraons who have
had no acquaintance, no means of acquaintance, with
mankind generally, who commit the most extraordinary
blunders in their every-day conduct, and to whom we
would not intrust the practical management of the most
insignificant matter. There are novel writers who, with-
out any enlarged or deep knowledge of mankind, such as
the author of John Halifax, have yet, by a very appre-
ciative observation of what has passed under their notice,
given as true and very vaUiabie delineations of character.
This perception is most likely to be possessed by women,
who by native disposition and training are led more than
the other sex to observe and understand the strength and
weakness, the nicer feelings, and the foibles of men and
women. But others, from the narrowness of their sym-
pathies and of their means of observation, have given us
only caricatures of humanity; this is often the case with
Dickens, who could faithfully portray only such charac-
ters as he had met with in police courts and in his pecul-
iar circle, and utterly fails in his pictures of mankind in

WOEKS OF FICTION.

general. No one of our itovdiats haa been able to appre-
eiatu and to describe every variety of human nature.
Some have represented their heroes and heroines aa
swayed by all sorts of impossible motives. Many of
the figures which pass before ua are felt to be unrealities
by all who know mankind. We certainly should not
like to have such cliaractei's as the Vicar of Wakefield,
Rasselas, and the Cheeryble Brothers to disappear fi"ora
our literature; but they are not found and cannot be
found with all their peculiarities in actual Life. The
consequence is that a large portion of the life portrayed
in our works of fiction is fantastic and deceptive. Of
all people, our habitual novel readers are the most igno-
rant of human nature, and the most likely to make mis-
takes in their intercourse with mankind. This may arise
in part from the artificial situations in which the figures
in works of fiction have to be placed for the sake of ef-
fect, but it proceeds mainly from the unreal characters
conjured up.

It is a curious question. What is to be the effect on
character of the excessive novel reading of the age in
which all read novels, in which moat young persons de-
vour them in large quantities, and in which many read
little else ? It is too wide a question to he discussed in a
work like this. The scenes gratify the imaging power
of the mind, they move us out of our habitual torpor,
and take us away from our petty troubles. The ideal
pictures help to raise men above themselves and above
the gross selfishness of the world. To those who have
other means of knowledge and who have good sense to
guide thein, the pictures disclose peculiarities of charac-
ter which they are not likely to meet with in society.
On the other hand, unless there be a proper, and this
thould be a preponderating proportion, of the reading of

68 SECOND ELEMENT : THE IDEA.

works dealing with realities, there is a risk that the miiiijs
thus niirtared take a very erroneous view of their fellow
men and of the world. The tendency will be to create an
imaginary world, of persona clothed with attributes, good
or evil, which they do not possess, and in expectation or
in fear of extraordinary good fortunes or reverses. Tliis
will be especially the case with those who are of a nerv-
ous temperament, or whose imagination is stronger than
their judgment. In some instances excessive indulgence
in the practice leads to frivolity, in others to sulkinesa.
In all cases the reading, except in a moderate degree, of
works of fiction, is apt to produce moodiness, or dream-
iness of spirit, or an irritation of temper, going out to-
wards inmates of the family, or a discontent with the
world, with its business, and its quiet enjoyments. The
abode for a lengthened time in this imaginary world un-
fits ua for the real one, which is felt to be chill after
being in so heated an atmosphere. Actual life seems dull
and prosaic after mingling in so much more stimulating
scenes ; and its society is felt to be vulgar after associat-
ing with heroes and heroines. As in the use of bodily
stimulants, the demand will be far a stronger and yet a
stronger draught, with new and more spicy ingredients,
Kor is it a sufficient reply to say that the tales can work
no mischief, as we do not believe them while we read
them. For the influence they exert does not arise from
our believing them, but from the phantasies with the cor-
responding feelings, silently and unconsciously leaving
their impression on tlie mind.

A poem is less likely than a novel to lead to such re-
fluUs, because it is commonly denser in thought, and
diverts by a great many harmonies of sentiment and ex-
pression. Poetry pleases not only by its narratives, but
by its rhythm of language, embodying what is far more

WOKKS OF FICTION. 59

important, a, rhythm of thought. The question has
often been asked, What constitutes poetry? The answers
have commonly been very confused and confusing. The
question would admit of a more satisfactory answer, if
put in this form, " Whiit sort of ideas should be enshrined
in verse ? " All kinds may be expressed appropriiitely
in prose, but only certain rank.'* are entitled to be clothed
in the courtly garb of poetry. It may be safely said
that all that is fitted to stir and gratify the imagiuation,
and to move the feelings, may be — I do not say it always
should be — put in poetical form. In using this language
I do not mean it to include eloquence, which may rouse
both the imagination and the feelings; but this all
towards a particular end, to lead to action which would
often be impected by too glowing pictures — as we have
in Burke's speeclies — or formed into measured lines.
Poetry attains its purpose when ita excitement gratifies
and pleases; it promotes a high purpose when ita pict-
ures elevate the mind ; it serves a moral pui-pose when
it molds the character for excellence.

It has often been remarked that poetry is the product,
aDd thus one of the characteristics of the age. Homer
and Scott represent the period, not of war, but of the
romance which in an age or two after gathers round
military exploits, ^schylus and Goethe and Shelley are
the expression of agea in which reflective thought, and
with it doubting thought, have appeared. Horace lives
in the age in which men are losing their faith in the
superstitions and the moral saws of their forefathers.
Virgil expresses the faith that still remains, and the
hope that anticipates a better state of things. Dante
comes forth with terrible earnestness when religious ref-
ormation is called for, and he has, like spring, to break
ap the winter. Chaucer pictures the times when men

60 SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

have seen the evils around them, but are atill practicing
them. Shakespeare bursts forth when there is a uni-
versiil upheaving of thought, like the sprouting of all
sorts of life in the seed-time. Milton is the embodiment
of the litter puritanism, which is losing its stern doctrine,
but holding by its high ethical ideal. Butler and Burns
represent the times in which there was a recoil from the
old faith, and an antiquated morality. Cowper's poems
are the breathing of the evangelical life rising from the
dead.

It has been noticed that there is often, no one would
say always, a relation between the poetry of an age and
the philosophic thought of the times immediately pre-
ceding, ^schylua iuid the Greek tragedians follow the
earlier, and are contemporaneous with the later, pre-So-
cratic schools of philosophy. Aristophanes comes forth
with his mirth and hia dance, on the stage prepared by
the Sophiste. Lucretius follows the introduction into
Italy of the philosophy of Epicurus, which was breaking
up the old Roman beliefs and morals. Ovid and Horace
wrote when the New Academy was discussing every-
thing, but believing in notliing, and a fully expanded
Epicureanism had called in philoacjphy to the defense of
pleasure. Racine represents the age when Catholicism,
defended by Bossuet, was patronized by the court, and
had taken its most imposing form, Voltaire gave ex-
pression to the sneers which the detection of the hypoc-
risy of the church called forth. Pope put into elegant
verse the philosophy of Bolingbroke in the age of ration-
alism and deism. Thomson was the first to express tlie
rising admiration of nature called forth by Sir Isaiic
Newton and the culture of physical science. The sub-
jective philosophy of Kant and his school gave an ideal
direction to Goethe and Schiller, and, it may he added,

ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS IN EMOTION.

Coleridge and Wordsworth, the lust being further swayed
by a genuine love of nature. Tennyson has undoubtedly
felt the Broad Church influence which begun to walk
abroad iu bis time, as opposed to the ritualism which
stimulated Keble. To correspond with the materiiilism
of the present da,y we have Swinburne and others, form-
ing a sensuous, tending to become a sensual, school.

The rationale of this can be given. Poetry is not
philosophy, but the poet is swayed by the ideas of the
age in which he lias been educated, so far as it has had
an influence rained down upon it, and a perfume scat-
tered by the higher thoughts of the country. Some
poets, it is true, like Sbabespeaie and Buras, speak from
the heart, and to all times ; but others, the product of
the times, address the times, and can get a hearing from
the times because they do so. Some, hke Wordsworth,
are before their time, and can get readers only after
readers have been prepared for them. Poetry, which is
the expression of emotion, is as it were the color and the
odor of the deepest thought and sentiment of the age.
But as the hues and perfume of a plant take their char-
acter, coarse and fetid, or lovely and pure, from the nat-
ure of the plant, and the soil in which it grows, so the
poetry of an age, or a country, takes its quality, no doubt,
from the predilectious of the poets, but these deter-
mined by the prevailing modes of belief and feeling in
the society in which they have been reared.

SECTION m.

ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS IS EMOTION.

It does not devolve on me in this work to unfold the
laws of the association of ideas: the discussion of thia
subject rather falls within the department of the cogni-

SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

tive powers. Still it is necessary to look at it as bearing
on the rise and the flow o£ the emotions.

A question which hiia never been satisfactorily an-
swered 18 here started : Is there an association among our
feeliiigB, or is the association solely among our ideas? It
is admitted on all hands thiit our ideas are associatt^d ac-
cording to certain laws ; that, for instance, wlien things
Lave been together in the mind and one eomea up, the
others are apt to come up also, and that like suggests like.
But do our emotions, say of hope and fear, of sorrow and
joy, of sympathy and anger, also suggest each other, and
if so, according to what laws. This is a much more per-
plexing inquiry, and has been made so mainly by the
want o£ a proper analysis of emotion and of a true ap-
prehension of the relation of feeling to the intellect and
of the place which the idea has in emotion.

One thing is very clear: an emotional state tends to
propagate itself. It suffuses like thaw throughout our
whole nature and softens it; it diffuses through all our
faculties. This may arise to some extent from the or-
ganic affection. It should always be noticed that all
emotion, properly speaking, begins within ; hut all our
stronger mental feelings are accompanied with an excited
state of the brain. When this is roused it continues for
a time according to physiological laws. I£ the organism
is affected by any one emotion the wave is propagated
throughout the whole. The roused brain and nervous
organism react on the mental train, and the combined
body and mind are for a time in a stiite of excitement, —
wave succeeds wave. Take the case of a man in a pas-
sion. He has been insulted; his honor is impugned.
Ideas rise up of reputation damaged, of injury done him ;
these address a nature sensitive about character, and
the corresponding organism is disturbed ; there is a visi-

ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS IK EMOTION.

ble flush on the face, the eyes emit fire, and the whole
frame is agitated. The consciousness of the man showa
that a series of emotional ideas is moving on in hia
mind, ail directed to one point by the deep lying ap-
petence. There are ideas with the corresponding feelings
of humiliation, of ill usage received, of anger, of resent-
ment ; and plana of defence, of resistance, and revenge,
are suggested, and arguments to repel the attack are
prepared ; or, in the case of persona who lay no moral re-
straint on themaelves, blows are resorted to, or a chal-
lenge is sent. Or look at this mother who has just had
the intelligence brought her that her son haa perished at
sea. There is, first, the occurrence realized with the vivid
picture of the dear son sinking in the waters, gone from
this world to be seen no more, pleasant memories of the
past coming up cruelly to torment the present and to
darken the future. Along with all this, and coutinuing
all this, is an excited nervoua state, venting itself in sobs,
in tears, possibly in writhings of the body, or in frantic
tearing of the hair or clothes, and endhtg, it may be, in
prostration, or in fainting.

It requires a very nice analysis to separate the parts,
the impulses and the ideas, from the cerebral affections
of the body, in such cases as these. But tliere is evi-
dently, first of all, a deep appetence, then an idea appeal-
ing to it, then an organic affection, then a mingled n-
eitement, both of body and mind. The appetence and
the affected organism together keep up the excited state,
and one idea comes up after another, all emotional. In
the course uf time, in some cases a longer and in others a
shorter, according to the temperament of the individnal,
the organic storm blows itself out, and there is a lull and
an aversion to have high feeling prolonged. If the affec-
tion — if the fire — be weak, it will be Tery much weak-

ened or extinguished nearly, or altogether. But if there
internal heat it will still burn, though it may
be in a subdued and smothered form for a et-ason, and
will in due time burst forth once more on fuel being
heaped on it.

It is clear, then, that there is a senae in which emotions
are associated. When the mind and organism are in an
emotional state, there is a predisposition towards feeling.
The feelings raised are of a certain type, which is deter-
mined by the appetence aroused, possibly to some extent
by a special cerebral organ allotted to it. If the appe-
tence be love of childreu, and a son be drowned, the
tumult all bears on the lost one. There will first be a
flowing and then an ebbing tide. But in all these cases
we must distinguish between the idea and the feeling,
between both and the affected oi^anism, and not fail to
notice how the origination of the whole Is to be traced to
the appetence. To clear up the subject, it will be expe-
dient first to look at the laws of the association of ideas,
independent of their connection with emotion, and then
we shall be in a better position to determine the influence
of emotion in directing the train of thought, and of emo-
tion in influencing the association.

The Primary Laws of association, those which regu-
late the succession of our thoughts, have been, it is ac-
knowledged, approximately determined, sufficiently so
for our present purpose; they may be represented as
Contiguity and Correlation.

(1.) When ideas have been in the mind together, on
one of them coming up the others are apt to follow. This
law may fake two forms, that of Succession and of Co-
existence. When ideas have followed each other a num-
ber of times; on one casting up it brings the whole train
with it. Taking advantage of this law, the boy, when he

ASSCOATION OF IDEAS IN EMOTION. 65

■would commit to memory s. passage in prose or poetry,
repeiits it a number of times. Tbis is the law of succes-
sion. Again, when things have been together in the
mind once, twice, ten timea, !i hundred times, — on any
one of tliem coming up it is apt to recall another, or all
the others. Having seen several persons in one company,
when I again meet with one of them I am apt to think
of the others. It is the law of coexistence. One pecul-
iarity of the law of contiguity in both forms has a very
special bearing on onr subject. Associated ideas are apt
to come up in groups. A mother in opening a drawer
meets unexpectedly with a favorite toy of a departed
child. What a rush of emotion, of scenes never to be
forgotten, with the occurrences following each other and
of associated circumstances, the central figure being atdl
the beloved one. We are thus able to explain one very
marked featnre of passion and affection, the gathering
of ideas around the object, to prolong and intensify the
feeling.

2.) When we have discovered a relation between
things, the one is apt to recall the other. Thus, like re?
calls like. I see a portrait and it brings up the original.
The father is recalled every time the widowed mother

I her boy. Resemblance is only one of many rela-
tions that may connect things. Means and end, cause
and effect, equalities and proportions, may all associate
things in our mind and make the one reproduce the
other. This law ia a mighty aid to science, as it brings

things according to their relations of class and cause.
It has not such an inSnence on emotion. Hence, the
though (strains of the man of science and the man of sen-
sibility are commonly found to be very different. The
association by correlation tends to keep feeling within
proper bounds, by suggesting cautious dangers incurred,

66 SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

maxims of prudence and of common sense, all to guard
against excess. Hence, children, savages, persons of un-
trained intellect, whose enggestions rise up mainly ac-
cording to the laws of contiguity, are apt to yield to
the impulse of the moment and allow it to carry tliem
whithersoever it will, whereas to those who have prepa-
rata et digeeta mens, to use a phrase of Bacon's, associa-
tions present themselves which lead them to bank in the
stream and allow it to flow in its proper and restricted
channel.

But there are others, what are called Secondary Laws
of association, which have a much closer relation with
emotion. The primary laws are those which regulate
the succession of our thoughts at all times, so that no
thought can spring up spontaneously, except in accord-
ance with them. But at any given moment of our exists
ence there may be a number of objects, luilf a dozen,
twenty, a hundred, so associated with the present idea
that they conld come up according to the primary laws.
In passing through the British Museum, or tiie Gallery of
Paintings at Dresden, I may have noticed for the mo-
ment hundreds of objects ; and it is possible that any one
of these might present itself to my phantasy; but on
these places being mentioned, only a few come up, prob-
ably first one and then others in succession. Why does
this one and then these others come to the front, while the
rest keep in the background ? The answer to this ques-
tion brings us to secondary laws, modifying the pri-
mary, to what Hamilton calls laws of preference, — an
appropriate enough phrase, provided it he not understood
that preference implies choice or exercise of will — the
secondary laws work quite as involuntarily as the pri-
mary. The question is. Can we discover and express
these secondary laws? I believe we can do so approxi-

ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS IN EMOTIOS. 67

mately with quite as mucli certainty as we can the pri-
mary. First, there is a law of Native Taste and Talent.
This exists, lilce all other laws, in the form of a tendency
to act in a certain way. It consists, to a greater or lesa
extent, oi a disposition of the cerebral and nervous organ-
ism. Our mfiitjil operations are continiiuUy producing
whiit Carpenter calls "a mental cerebration," that is, they
produce a certain state and arrangement of the cells of
the gray matter of the brain. When the infant begins
to apeak or to walk, it finds every act laborious, irksome,
and awkward. Attempt after attempt is made, success-
ful and unsuccessful. But by perseverance a particular
structure is given to the brain and the ganglia and the
nerves, and action becomes easy. The action never be-
comes, as some physiologists seem to think, automatic.
It is always necessary to have some act of the will to
originate the whole, to start the speech or the step. But
whereas at the first there had to be a series of tentative
volitions, many of them failures, now by a beautiful pro-
vision of nature, or rather of Him who gave to nature its
hiwB and. dispositions, there ia an adapted organic struct-
ure which needs only one simple act of the will to start
it, when it acts automatically. How difficult does the
child find it, how easy do we now find it to utter that
word "automatically," all because there is no arranged
mechanism in the one case, while there is in the other.

Secondly, there is the law ot Mental Energy. Those
ideas come up most frequently and readily, on which we
have bestowed the greatest amount of mental force.

It may be an energy of Intellect. We have thoaght
much on a particular subject, we have turned it round
and round in our mind, it will henceforth be apt to pre-
sent itself, and bring with it the objects with which it
has been associated. Hence a man's business, that which

SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

has been occupying him for hours evfiry day, ever cornea
up before him, even when he doea not wish it, and when
he would rather be relieved from its pressure. Intel-
lectual activity and industry thus bring with theui their
proper reward, in a mind trained and predisposed toward
the work that has been pursued.

It niay be an energy of Will, especially of attention,
which is an exercise of will. When we fix our minds on
an object, and continue to do so for a greater or less
length of time, and revert to it once and again, it will be
inclined to come to us whenever an opportunity allows.
By this means we have the current of our thoughts more
at our command than we are apt to imagine. As we
habitually will, so will he the habitual tenor of our
frames of mind.

It may also be an energy of Feeling. This is the law
which falls more particularly under our notice in this
work. Whatever has been associated with emotion is
apt to come up before the mind. We have seen that
the idea determines the emotion ; we now see that the
emotion may determine the frequency of the occurrence
of the idea. The two together must have a mighty in-
fluence on the train of thought and on the character.
The man of strong sensibility will ever have emotional
ideas springing up in his mind, and these ideas will tend
to recur and bring the sentiment with them. As the
basis oE the feeling, there will always he the appetence ;
but it is the idea that awakens the appetence, and in the
case before us the feeling experienced has made the idea
to appear,

This seems to me to be the rationale of the associa-
tion of emotions. Organically, emotion puts us into a
state of sensibility, and when in this state every feeling
stirred up produces a greater perturbation. The feeHng,

^L accusi

ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS IN EMOTION. 69

in proportion to its intensity, tends to bring b;ict the
idea at its basis once and again, all to renew the feeling
and tbe organic affection. Take the case of the sorrow
of a widow who hua just lost her hnsbiind. At the root
of the whole is the deep affection, then an idea ot the
separation and the loss, and then intense mental excite-
ment with organic disturbance. This is the immediate
sorrow. As a consequence, the idea of the loss comes up
a^iD and again, to renew the sorrow. After a season
there is apt to be an abatement : first, from the organio
wave expending itself, so that the mental emotion does
not 60 agitate it ; and secondly, from new associationa
springing up, possibly new affections formed, or old
wfTections strengthened, say a more intense devotednesa
of tbe widow to the children of the departed. If the
affection haa never been deep, the sorrow evaporates in
this way, leaving nothing but a dry indifference, capa-
ble, like ashes, only of an occasional and momentary
kindling. If the affection has been strong, the grief will
abide witli the widow for life, but it will be less violent,
and will be relieved by pleasant reminiscences and by
useful occupations,

We have here a picture of every other violent passion,
BUch as anger, or disappointment, or shame, or remorse.
The nervous affection ia excited, and then It subsides.
Crowds of thoughts, all tending to feed the passion, coma
up according to that primary law of coexistence which
brings up assocbitions in groups, but are in the course of
time varied, and, it may be, dissipated and scattered by
new experiences. We thus see the advantage, if we
would abate piisaion, of keeping away from scenes which
might provoke it, and going — traveling, if need be —
into new scenes which raise new associations. We are
accustomed to say that time has wrought the change,

70 SECOND ELEMENT; THE IDEA,

but in fact it has been by these mental and physical
agencies having had time to wort.

Proceeding on tliis analysis, we can explain certain
mental phenomena often commented on. Some are vio-
lently affected with grief or passion at the time, and
soon lose all feeling ; while others, not, it may be, bo
rnffled on the surface, are aa strongly moved in the
depths of their hearts for long years after. Again, some
are all feeling at all times, and Iiave perpetual smiles of
benignity on their countenance, and expressions of sym-
pathy ever flowing from their lips, and at times tears
trickling from their eyes — all, it may be, perfectly sin-
cere at the time ; but then you cannot make them take
an abiding interest in any one person, or in the beat of
causea. Whence the difference? It may arise so far
from a mere organic mobility in the one class of persona,
and an inorganic immobility in the other class. But the
essential difference lies in the circuroatance, that in the
former there is merely a surface rill of excitement, act-
ing on an organic impressibility, which soon runs dry,
whereas in the other there ia a deep fountain of affec-
tion or hatred, ready to burst out, and forcing, when it
does not find, a channel.

These laws may enable us to explain a well-known
mental action. A man promises to do a certain act at a
certain hour. The wonder is, not that he should at
times forget it, but that in ordinary circumataucea he
should remember it, and perform what he intended.
How does it happen that in the multitude of the thoughts
within him, he should think of the act at the proper mo-
ment and proceed to do it? The answer to this question
will bring before us a general fact of our mental nature
which has very much eacaped the notice of psychologists.
It ia that a determination to do a particular act may

^L DUt W

ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS IN EMOTION, 71

reach forward in its influence tlirough a considerable pe-
riod. The determination to awake at a particular hoar
during the night may run through our half cousciouB
tlioughts and enable ns to rise about the time we wish.
How are we to explain this?

It ia clear that we must bring in first the law of men-
tal energy, according to which, what we have bestowed
a great deal of force on ia sure to come up more fi'o-
qnently and readily. If our resolution is formed loosely,
without any thought or earnestness, it is very apt never
to come up again, or come up only after the time for ac-
tion ia over. It may be noticed, too, that if we form a
purpose or give a promise in the midst of distractions, or
when we are eagerly bent on some otlier end, the whole
is apt to pass away from the mind, or to recur when it ia
too late. We are moat apt to remember when our reso-
lution relates to something towards which we have a
Strong natural or acquired appetence. It is almost cer-
tain to come up when it falls in with our habits, or when
it is associated with something that must come before us,
say with a particular place, or hour, or occurrence. The
lover is not likely to forget the appointment he has made
with the loved one, and should he fail to remember it it
would be taken as an evidence that his affection was not
veiy deep. In these cases all the laws of association
combine to recall the resolution or the promises. When
these do not assist us our only resource is to fix the de-
termination very deeply in our minds and bring it up
from time to time, that it may become more deeply
rooted and be made to come up more certainly. All
such processes are themselves mental, but leave an un-
conscious impress on the brain, and thiia favor the recol-
lection, in a way which physiology should try to explain,
out which it cannot explain at this moment.

72 SECOND ELEMENT : THE IDEA.

SECTION IV.

BPOMTANEOUa 1M.0W OF TBODQaT.

There is a train of idea and emotion which we are dis-
posed to follow every given inatant, impelled uncon-
sciously by deep underlying appetences, naturiil and ac-
quired, and flowing in the channels opened by the lawa
of association, intellectual and emotive.

Our floating ideas, not determined by outward circnm-
Btancea or by some fixed purpose, move hke clouds in
the sky. Sometimes they are light and fleecy, and we
waJk or rest pleasantly under them. Sometimes they
iire bright and cheerful like the morning dawn, and we
are inspired by hope and incited to activity. Sometimes
they are glowing and radiant like the evening sky, and
we gaze upon them with delight and linger in their
aplendora. At other times they are as chill as mists, and
our sensations are uncomfortable and our prospects dia-
mal. Or they are dark and scowling, foreboding rain
and tempest, or are ready to burat out in thunder and
lightning. Quite as frequently — indeed it is the com-
mon experience oE many — thi'y are dull and uninterest-
ing, like a gray stream of clouds, such as I have seen in
Ireland, floating whole days in one direction, concealing
the blue sky and darkening the earth; and we wish to
have the exciting storm rather than this monotony.
Much of human happiness and misery, much of human
character is determined by this flowing stream, just as
the lines of ancient civilization were determined by the
great rivers, the Nile, the Euphrates, and the Ganges.
When the train is pleasant we commit ourselves to it
and go on with it. But then we are liable to be annoyed
at "any moment by intruders interrupting it. Much o£
that fretfulness which we call temper may be traced tc

SrONTASEOUS FLOW OF THOUGHT.

this source. No doubt there may be other causes operat-
ing- There may be pains, more or less keen, arising
from disease or accident ; there may be tlie loss of ob-
jects on which we set a value ; but even the annoyances
thus produced may derive their force from their disturb-
ing a train of earnest, or vain, or proud, or lustful ideas,
all pursuing their courses. A person, eagerly bent on a
favorite end, finds an untoward event coming across his
path, and he bursts into a passion. Or he is happy in
cherishing a sense of his own ability, or courage, or
worth, and there is a remark made, which ruffles his self-
complacency, and bis manner is changed on the instant.
How unwilling are the gay and the frivolous to be con-
strained to turn to study, or to the business of life, with
its habitual dallueas and its frequent disappointments.
The barshest sounds do not so grate on the ears listening
to the finest music, as these interruptions do upun the
easy fiow of association. In this way we oan account for
the sensitive aversion to certain scenes and persona ; their
appearance calls up unpleasant scenes in the past to dis-
turb the complacent humor of the present. " I hate him,
for he doth not prophesy good concerning me, but only
evil."

When outward circumstances do not harmonize with
the inward train, there is apt to be a strain and a strug-
gle. The girl, the boy, even the man, who has been en-
grossed with play and amusement, is reluctant to turn
to work which requires a constant eSort. Mucli of the
complaint of discontent in this world proceeds from
persons not being suited to their surroundings, from
their being placed in positions which have an entirely
nnconformable shape, so that they jar on each other as
they turn. Hence the propriety of so far studying the
dispositions, as well as the capacities of boys in the

SECOND ELEMENT: THE IDEA.

choice of a proEeaaion ; if there be a strong taste there
will be the risk of a collision if it is thwarted. Chatter-
ton, with a strong poetical predilection, could not be
contented in the shop of a druggist; and David Hume,
with a love for literature and reflection, found the study
oE law to be irksome in Edinburgh ; and feeling mercan-
tile pursuits to be still moro irksome in Bristol, betook
himself to France and to philosophy. We can account
in this way for the incompatibilities of temper which
often manifest themselves soon after marriage. There
are not only the different tastes oE those thus thrown so
closely together, there are the different and colliding
lines in which their trains of association run. The hus-
band starts a topic in which he is intensely interested,
hut is surprised to find that it jars on the cherished ideas
of his wife, who becomes irritated, and an expression
escapes her which kindles the ire of her partner, or sinks
him into moody silence, or ferments his dissatisfaction
into sourness. In all such cases, it will be found that by
firm moral principle and forbearance the two can have
their forms so bent as to fit into each other, — as two
somewhat discordant time-pieces can be made to keep the
same time by being placed on the same wall. Still it is
better when from the first there is a correspondence of
taste, — which may not imply an identity, for they may
conform all the more when a prominence in the one fits
into a deficiency of the other, when light-heartedneas
buoys up gravity, by which it is balanced and kept from
leaving the earth and floating in the air.

It has to be added that there are some so selfish, and
have BO yielded to ciipricious temper, that they cannot be
adjusted to any ordinary state of things, and they must
take to themselves the blame of those incompatibilities
which they throw on others, or on their situation. The

SPONTANEOUS FLOW OF THODGHT.

gemta irritahUe vatum have often shown tlieniBelves un-
willing to submit to the restraints of the family and of
society. The sea-shore pebble has been rounded and
smoothed by its being roiled by the watei-s ; and it la
part of the wholesome discipline to which we are sub-
jected in this world, that in the frictions of business and
professional competition, of the family and the social
circle, we are made to learn the charity which " auftereth
long and is kind."

Even when the train ia indifferent, or so far painful,
we are apt to follow it, rather than keep up a constant
fight with it. It ia true that the train can so far be in-
fluenced by the will detaining a present thougiit, which
may collect other thoughts, and in time wear a new
channel. But in all this we have to resist the stream,
and the exertion is felt to be laborious, and wastes the
energy, and is apt to be given up because of the irksome-
iiesa. Even the sluggish monastic life cornea to have its
attractions to many as permitting an accustomed train
which is seldom disturbed, and is encouraged by the self-
righteous spirit engendered; though I rather think there
are cases in which, after the depression which may have
led the persons to devote themselves to such a life has
passed away, the old and worldly spirit awakes to take a
life-long vengeance. The idle and the vagrant cannot
resist the temptations presented by the freedom they en-
jtiy in following their own ways. We can thus explain
what has been called the indulgence in melancholy.
The old habit can be thoroughly conquered only by the
formation of new habits, that is, by channels cut out
by the currents coming in from new quartera. Let it be
observed, that in all this there are dominant appetences
leading on a train of ideas of an emotional character.

Very different effects follow when the appetences tend

76 SECOND ELEMENT : THE IDEA.

towards tbe unpleasant, and the ideas in the train are
piiinful. With some, eapecialiy those laboring under a
diseased nervous temperament, the stream conducts from
one unpleasant topic to another : the faces of lost friends
present themselves, they thinlf only of injuries done
them, of insults offered them, of misfortunes that have
befallen, or they picture coming woes. The endeavor
will now be, to be delivered from these aasociatious. To
relieve themselves from such pain, some betake them-
selves to scenes of boisterous mirth, or mad excitement.
In the depression that follows a period of excitement,
persons are driven to return to their old scenes of folly.
It ia tlms that the afSicted have to leave the scenes
where the misfortune occurred ; thus that the wife has
to abandon the home where her husband was murdered
and the youth to forsake the locality where his father
disgraced himself ; thus that husbands have murdered
their wives, to be rid of the memorials of domestic cru-
elty or of broken vows.

CHAPTER III.

^^ pecta
^1 frasti

THB THIRD ELEMENT : THE EXCITEMENT WITH ATTAOH-

HEST AKD BEPUGNANCE.

SECTION I.

TBEIR OBNBRAI, NATO RE.

"We have seen that as the reservoir of all emotion
tiiere is an affection or an appetence, and tliat the waters
flow out in a channel supplied by the idea. Let us now
Tiew the inward impulse as actually bursting forth. The
BOul is now to a greater or leas extent in a moved or ex-
cited state. There is a current, smooth, leaping, or
troubled, moving on with more or less r;ipidily. There
is more than excitement; there is a feeling of pleasure
in, or aversion to, the object of which we have an idea,
and which ia supposed to gratify, or thwart, the motive
power of the mind. When the object is contemplated as
good, or as bringing good, that is as appetible, we are
drawn towards it, we feel an attachment to it; there is
a glow of heart, a pleasurable elevation, and we feel at-
tracted towards that which interests us. On the other
hand, when it is regarded as evil, or about to bring evil,
there is also an excitement, but it is painful excitement,
cha6ng and irritating the spirit, and we draw away from
the object, or we drive it away from us. There is an in-
clination towards the object in all those emotions which
contemplate the desirable, such as affection, hope, ex-
pectation, and a disinclination towards all things that
frastrate our wishes, in fear, anger, disappointment.

1 8 THIRD ELEMENT : EXCITEMENT AND ATTACHMENT.

It is when it thus bursts out that the affection falls
under the eye of consciousness. We are not conscious of
the appetence, as an appetence, of the swaying motive,
which lies deep down in the soul, as the root does iu the
ground. Just as we do not perceive by the senses the
attraction of the moon, but notice it as i-aising the tides,
so we do not discover the power of a motive till it raises
a wave of feeling. We become conscious, first, of the
idea, and along with this, of the excitement arising from
the attractions and repulsions. We feel in a moved, often
in an irritated, or agitated, state, and are impelled to ac-
tion which we may allow or restrain as we will.

The excitement is produced, in the first instance, by
the gratification, or disappointment, real or expected, of
an appetence. But when it has once been enjoyed it
may come to be desired for its own sake. Some feel as
if they could not live without excitement. Hence they
seek out for scenes fitted to produce it. They may
search for it in a variety of quarters : some in the the-
atre, some in novel reading, some in the dance, some in
hunting or traveling, some in the competitions of trade
or ambition, some by resorting to wine or other bodily
stimulants. Kept within proper bounds, and when di-
rected to proper objects, this love of stimulus may be
allowed; it adds to our enjoyment and it may dispel
lassitude, torpor, and ennui, and promote habits of activ-
ity and enterprise. On the other hand, when directed
to wrong ends, or when carried to excess, even in cases
in which the employments are lawful, the taste may be
very injurious, wasting the time of youth when knowl-
edge and habits of virtue should be acquired ; and
when declining life arrives, appearing in an unseemly
and ridicnloua frivolity, or issuing in discontent and rest-

THEIR KATUBE.

The repulsions are as powerful, often as peculiar, as
the attractions. As men and women have personal af-
fections and predilections, ao they have also prejudices
and antipathies, often bitter and incurable. They avoid
certain places, persons, and societies ; they shrink from
certain pursuits and proposals; they cherish envy, ma-
lignity, revenge, because afraid of their pride being hum-
bled, and their favorite ends being thwarted. Some have
doubted whetlier the malignant passions, or the benevo-
lent, have stirred up the larger amount of activity in our
woild. Even as courage impels some to fight against
threatened evil, so cowardice prompts others to make
great exertion to avoid it. If duty has, like the bee, its
sweets, it also haa its stings, and many are thereby kept
from pursuing it. On the other hand, the hatred of evil
in a world where sin is so prevalent, and has wrought
such mischief, has called forth an incalculable amount of
energy in noble minds, and kept our world from becom-
ing an oETeusive and intoJei'able lazar house.

The inappetible may he of two sorts. It may be the
disappointment of a strong impulse, say ambition, or
love. This is in one sense negative ; it arises from the
absence of an object, but of an object for which tiiere
may still he a craving felt to be painful, because it can-
not be gi'atified. But in other cases there may be a
positive aversion to a certain end or object, to certain
places, or persons, or animals. These two forms are
closely related and run into each other. Take revenge :
a favorite scheme has been interfered with, and we take
up an antipathy to the person who has thwarted us.
The sensation is a mixed one. There is gratification in
indulging the appetence, but the gratification is painful
as looking to evil and not tiO good. There is a pleasure
In wreaking vengeance, but it is counteracted by pain.

80 THIRD ELEMENT : EXCITEMENT AND ATTACHMENT.

How different from the gratification of beuevolence,
which is blessed in the exercise, and blessed in the be-
neficent result.

We can now understand the na.ture of that restless-
ness to which we are all liable, and which some seeni to
labor under perpetually. It arises from a variety of in-
consistent impulses moving us at the same time, or, more
frequently, from a succession of alternating hopes and
disappointments. We see it in the vain man, when both
praise and abuse are heaped upon him ; in the ambitious
man, now vaulting high and again thrown back ; in the
youth waiting the award of the judge in a competition,
and the lover, now rejoicing in the sunshine, and now
languishing in the shade. These feelings are promoted
by a nervous temperament, and almost always lead to
nervousness. In all cases there are active molecular at-
tractions and repulsions which raise a distressingly heated
atmosphere.

We see how "hope deferred maketh the heartsick."
The heir feels it when the owner of tlie property lives so
long. The adventurer feels it when the long planned
scheme does not succeed. The maiden feels it oppi'es-
sively when the long expected proposal of her lover is
not made. Why all this ? Because the appetence craves
without being gratified ; and there arises a discontent
with what is occurring because it does not bring tlie ex-
pected good. There is a rumor of the owner of the
coveted property dying, followed by his recovery ; the
prospect of success is darkened by a rising cloud ; the
wooer calls hut goes away without proposing. The con-
tinuance may breed a settled depression unwholesome as
a pestilential swamp. When it is seen that the object
cannot possibly be gained, the heart becomes sickened by
the desire still clamoring like the appetite of hunger
when yet there is no food.

THEin KATUBE. 81

We see how Ennui is produced. Happiness, as every
one knows, is greatly promoted by every one having a
competent amount of work in which he is interested;
when every waking Lour calls forth a motive, atfords
room for a habit to tiike its course, and exeruisea an en-
ergy. But when there is no such labor enjoined or re-
quired, there come seasons more or leas frequent; longer
or shorter, in which there is no incentive, or, more fre-
quently, in which there are motives confined like waters
in a pool from which there is no outlet. The result is
ennui, which is apt to seize on those who are without a
profession or any pressing active employment, and which
ia the penalty which idleness has to pay for its indul-
gence. All persons thus situated may not fall into this
humor, because they have strong tastes which carry them
into amateur amusements, such as reading, hunting,
music, or painting.^ The person under ennui, while feel-
ing bia miseiy, is unwilling to be roused out of his som-
nolence: he has not motive enough to overcome the via
inerti<B, It is a blessed thing for such a man, when some
unexpected circumBtanee, it may be a dire calamity,
comes to startle him like a thundei'-clap, to awake him
from his lethargy, and make him himself again.

Much the same experience, but with important differ-
ences, ia apt to be realized by old people who have given
np the active pursuits in which they engaged for so many
years. For a time they feel the relaxation to be pleas-
ant. But very soon their habits impel them in their
old ways, only to make them feel the weakness laid
upon them. The old farmer, the old merchant, the old

" When I am a^eniled," gnye Lather, " with hesTV tribulntioii, I rush
among my pigs rather than remain alone b/ myticlf. Tbc human
heart is like a tnill-jtone in a mill ; when yoa put wheat uoder it it tunu
and griods, and braiaea tlie wheat to flour ; if you put ia uo wheat tbeo it
grlnda on, but then it is iwelf it griuda and weara away."

82 THIRD ELEMENT: EXCITEMENT AND ATTACHMENT,

lawyer, hnving given up their busioesa, in the expecta-
tion of enjoying an evening of puace after a busy day,
are apt to feel chagrined — if they have not been culti-
Tatiiig tastes which may still be gratified, or if they have
not heavenly light to irradiate their evening hours witli
the hope of a coming day.

There are various agencies at work in the ordinary
experience of old age. There is the constant opposition
offered to the mental energy by the letliargy of the body,
especially by the immobility of the brain action, which
is a necessary concurrent in all mental action. This pro-
duces other effects. There is a repression o£ the motives
and habits, which have been in opei'ation for many long
yeara. Then there is the inability to acquire new habits
and springs of action, owing to the mind being altogether
preengaged and fixed. The old man is lite the ship left
high and dry upon the beach, when the waters have left
it. He sits in his chimney comer because not able to
exert himself, or has no motive to exert himself, and he
becomes peevish and crabbed when proposals are made
which he knows he cannot execute. He lets the flow of
association go on in his mind, and he goes back on the
past till it becomes wearisome, and would indulge old
tastes, till he finds that the objects are rotting ; and he
cherishes a sense of merit till he is made to see that his
very righteousnesses are as filthy rags which will not
keep him comfortable. All that is now occurring pro-
duces only a momentary interest, flickering like a dying
candle. The light that is fitted to brighten his counte-
nance must come not from behind, but in front, opening
to him a better world.

As the feeling raised by the idea of the inappetible is
painful, so we learn to avoid what would excite it.
There are persons who studiously keep out of the way of

THElfi NATTJBE. 83

every painful scene, who never visit the house of mourn-
ing, and who turn away from distress of every kind.
This love of ease, this determination to avoid all that
would humiliate, produces a character of intense selfish-
ness. It is one of our highest duties in this world to
visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, to
seek out distress in order to relieve it. The Persian
king gave orders that no one clothed in sackcloth, that
is, the dreas of mouruing, should enter his p:daee. But
while he could thus shut out those who were sorrowing
for the dead, he could not sliut out death itself ; and no
better preparation can be made for that event than by
sympathizing with it in others, in familiarizing ourselves
with it, and comforting those oppressed with it.

The excitement of which I am writing la to a large
extent an organic sensation, which will be considered
under another head. As such, it follows the laws of
the organism. In particular, it is apt, after continuing
for a time, to subside ; the storm is changed into a
calm, the flow becomes an ebb ; all this from much the
same causes as give fevers their allotted time, four days,
or ten days, or fourteen days, for rising and falling; that
is, there is first a combination of agencies attracted to a
point, and then a dissipation of them, as they lose their
force. Every one has experienced this. On the back of
the height tliere is a hollow which is deep in proportion
to the previous height. It arises not so much from any
special mental laws as from the wasting of the nervous
energy, whose concurrence is necessary to emotive action.
This makes our life, so far as it depends on feeling, to be
a series of undulations, with rising and falling waves.

It has to be added, that while the mental excitement
and the organic affection are closely connected, they are
not identical. Our emotions, say of grief for the deatb

84 THIRD ELEMENT : EXCITEMENT AND ATTACHMENT.

of a friend, are first in the mind and then tliey affect
the nerves. In this chapter wa consider the state of
the conscioas soul, and in the next its influence on the
body.

SECTION n.

ACTION AND REACTION OF 'KBLma.

There is undoubtedly a law of action and reaction in
human nature as well as in physical nature. The one
phenomenon is analogous to the other, hitt they cannot
be regarded as the same. We have seen (pp. 11, 12)
that every power of the mind craves for activity. But
in order to activity, or rather accompanying activity,
there must be change. When one faculty has been bnsy
for a time, others will be apt to demand their share of
employment. When the same set of ideas have been
engrossing the mind it likes to have something new and
fresh. The merchant, after his day's toils are over, wishes
music or pleasant reading in the evening. The hard
student craves for a novel, or for a game of bowla or
cricket. The pent-up citizen rejoices when he can from
time to time breathe and think freely on the mountain
or by the sea. So far we have mental laws. But the
reaction, though in the mind, proceeds to a large extent
from organic affections, to be treated of in the next chap-
ter. When the concurring nervous force is becoming
CBpent in the brain, mental actions are performed with
difficulty, and when it ia all expended mind cannot exert
itself. I have felt so exhausted by mental straining di-
rected to a point, that I could scarcely count so far as
five, or name my dearest friends. Whatever be the
causes, the facts are well known. The waters laid up in
the reservoir run out, and the machinery will not go till
a new store collects, supplied by gentle rain or puuring
L M ^^

NATURE KESTOHING ITSELF. 85

flood. In the stibsidence, the soul feels indisposed to ex-
ertion. The lull after the storm is felt to be a relief.
Quite as frequently the sensatioti is one of lassitude, of
languor, and depression. The vessel has no wind to bear
it on and it is kept back by its own inertia. After a
night of somnolence there will be an awaking in the
morning, and fresh activity, provided always that there
is any strength of intellectual or motive power. But the
time of exhaustion may be a time of trial and temptation.
The courage which was so keen in the time of passion
has sunk into indifference and apathy, and the man has
scarcely enough of spiiit left to defend or save himself.
In the season of relaxation, after victory, armies have
lost all that they gained in the previous fight. In the
weakness succeeding an active struggle, men and women
have ceased to resist evil, have yielded to temptation,
and abandoned virtue as a hopeless acquisition. As it is
with individuals so is it with communities, with nations.
After a time of great excitement, religious or political, or
even mercantile or literary, there is apt to be a revulsion,
and people are indisposed to exert themselves for any
high end. But the reaction of public sentiment ia a
complex subject, which will be more expediently cod-
sidei'ed in a later part of this treatise.

SECTION ni.

KATHRE RESTORING ITSELF.

This is a familiar fact. We see it in the spirits, re-
covering after a fall. The widow who has just lost her
husband is overwhelmed with grief, and feels as if she
could never again experience a moment's joy in this
world; and in all this she may be perfectly sincere,
though the world will not give her credit for it, when it

St) THIRD ELEMENT: EXCITEMENT AND ATTACHMENT.

observes what follows. For in a few montlis, perliapa in
a few wet-ba, other feelings rise, perh.ipa new attach me nta
spring lip, and she contemplates her loss with nothing
more than a sober sadness, and could not, if she wished,
renew the poignancy of her first grief. In what way are
we to account for this ? It is clear that the explanation,
if the true one, must take into account those siifety valves
that provide an outlet for crowded feeling, which, when
it rises to a certain height, has a means of flowing out.

It is to be accounted for partly by the exhaustion of
the nervous organism, to which I have so often referred
as being the issue of excited feeling. This explains how
the persons fall into a relaxed state after the period of
agitation. But this cause would not hinder the return
of the great sorrow again and again, after the prostration
is over. In order to understand the process, we must
take along with na two other laws. One is the natural
shrinking from pain, and therefore from those over-
whelming bursts which do so agitate and distract the
mind. Then, secondly, the association of ideas calls in
a number of other feelings tending to divert the mind.
The very departed friend comes to be associated with
ideas different from the loss, and these, if they do not re-
move the grief, tend to alleviate it, by mixing it with
other emotions, so that the widow, who in the first in-
stance could not speak of her departed husband without
a burst of sorrow, can now talk of his kindness and of
his virtues. In matters fitted to awaken feelings of
shame, the person studiously banishes the humihating
thoughts as effectively as possible, and seeks, encourages,
and cherishes ideas of a different kind, fitted to restore
the self-esteem. It is astonishing how .speedily persona
with no very acute moral sense will outlive their deeds
of dishonor, and mingle once more in society with the
atmost seli-complacency and assurance.

XATUEE EESTORING ITSELF. 87

Let US look at the case of a man who has hitherto bus-
tained a high b u si nesB reputation becoming unexpectedly
bankrupt, or of a woman hitherto of pure cliaracter
committing an act which brings her into disgrace. At
first the feeling of mortification is intense, and is ren-
dered more eo when there is a sense of guilt. The spirit
is 80 wounded tiiat it feels it cannot bear it (Prov.
xviii. 14), and the torture must be got rid of at all haz-
ards. There are means of effecting this. Time brings
along with it new avocations and new associations of
ideas, and the painful occurrence is remembered as sel-
dom as possible. Excuses wiU present themselves and
be welcomed : there are others as bad as they are, there
were palliating circumstances, or the acknowledged faults
should be lost sight of amidst the many virtues which
are possessed. Or the person may determine unblush-
ingly to fiice the reproach and defy the world, and will
find grounds for fighting with old friends, or with the
community generally, and this may be persevered in till
the spirit is cauterized by the searing procf-ss and be-
comes insensible. In the course of time new companion-
afaips will be formed, and lines of defense set up to stand
the assaults of conscience. In the end the guilty man or
woman may walk unabashed through the world, mortified
only on rare occasions, when the moral monitor is awak-
ened for a brief space from its torpor, or when society
lashes with its scorpion stings.

CHAPTER IV.

FOURTH element: THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

^P It is of importance to place the discussion as to the or-

H ganic iiffection at tJiis place ratlier tlisin in an earlier

■ chiipter. The mental emotions are not the effect, they

are rathei' the cause, of the bodily movements. Some
physiologists write as if emotion were a sort of reflex act,
like the sneezing which follows the tk'kling of the nos-
trils. This is a very apposite example of Bacon's idolum
speeuSf in which the student of the nerves applies a lavr
which he notices in his own province, to an entirely dif-
ferent class of phenomena. They speak as if, when a
mother faints on hearing that her son has been drowned,
that it is simply a reaction of the mind evoked by the
intelligence from without. But the intelligence of the
death as reaching the ear is merely the mean — Male-
branche would call it the occasion — of calling into action
the mental activity ; the idea of the son as dead, and the
diaitppointment of a deep and long cherished affection,
these constitute the true cause of the bodily effects of
the tremor and agitation. In all cases the emotion be-
gins within, in an appetence or affection of some kind,
iuid in the idea of aomething to favor or to thwart it. In
K many cases there is no external occasion to call it forth,

H as when the mother in the midst of the night awakes,

H thinka of her drowned son and weepa, or when a man

H Bitting in his room suddenly recalls a past deed of folly.

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS.

and ia overwhelmed with regret, which causes hia whole
frame to writhe.

It is miidi moie difficult to treat of the bodily a£Eec-
tions produced by the emotions, than of tlie emotions
considered us mental acta revealed to consciousness. The
reason is, that we have now to deal with two very dif-
ferent sets of agencies, with extended body and sensitive
mind,and with tlieir mutualaction. For the pri?sent, it is
of importance that psychologists should pursue their
observations with consciousness as agent, and that physi-
ulogista should conduct their experiments with all the
appliances they can command, each party being under
obligations not to speculate beyond his own province,
Aa they do so, judicious men will rise up to combine
the results in a consistent system, in which light will be
thrown both on mind and body. So far as the emotions
are ooncerneO, all we can do at present is to enunciate
and employ a few laws of an empirical cliaracter that
have been ascertained.

The desirable thing would be to determine what bod-
ily effect each kind of affection or emotion is fitted to
produce, what inBuence is exercised by grief and by joy,
by fear and by hope, by regret and by complacency.
This cannot be done very specifically at present, but
mental science may promote this end by giving a good
description and classification of the feelings, to which
physiology can accommodate its researches. At present,
psychologists are often ignorant of the empirical laws
which have been discovered by physiologists who have
studied the brain and nerves, and more frequently physi-
ologists imagine that all emotion can be explained by
nervous action, and confound the different departments
of the mind.

I. There is a general law as to the southing or irritat-

1)0 FOURTH ELEMENT: THE OEGANIC AFFECTION.

ing effects of emotion on the body. When tho idea con-
templates the good, that is, the appotihle, both the psy-
chical and the orgiinic affections are pleiisant, leas or
more. TLia is the case with contentment, cheerfulneas,
hope, and joy. On the other hand, when it regiirda what
is supposed to he evil, tlie sensibility is to a less or gri^ater
t'Xtent disjigreeable. It ia so with anger, remoree, fear,
und grief, under all their forms. Generally it may be
held that a moderate degi-ee of emotion ia favorable to
the health, both of mind and body. It should bo ob-
seiTtd, however, of all intense and vehement feeling,
whether it be painful or pleasant iu a moderate degree,
that it wearies and exhausts the frame and is apt to issue
in listleaaness and apathy. Our feelings are meant to be
breezes to waft us along on the voyage of life, but we are
ever to guard against allowing them to rise into gales
and hurricanes, to overwhelm ua in depths from which
we cannot be extricated. By ihe causes now indicated
we can account for the reaction which commonly succeeds
a period of high excitement, whether among individuals
or communities — the tide has run its course and the ebb
sets in. It has not been so frequently obseiwed, though
it is equally true, that among persons of life and spirit
there is apt, after a period of lassitude, to be a reawak-
ening, and a craving for enterprise which searches for a
channel in which to flow, and will find an outlet. The
hungry lion will not more certainly go fortb in search
of prey than the man who has any force of character
will, after a period of relaxation, be impelled to set out
on new activities.

Hygiene takes advantage of this law, and will profit
by it more and more as science advances. The physi-
cian should, in the first place, seek to put and keep in a
healthy state those organs of the body whose derange-

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS.

ment affects the mind, such as the heart, which tends to
make us excitable, the stomach, which produces irritation,
and the liver, which incUnes to melancholy. This may
often be done by appropriate medicines. In healing
these organs we soothe the temper and prevent the rise
of other diseases. When children are cross-tempered
the nurse gives them a dose of medicine. But secondly,
and more especially, the physician should endeavor to
raise those feelings which give stimulus to the frame,
such as hope, which casts sunshine on the landscape and
stirs up motives which lead to exertion and activity ; and
take all pains to remove those affections which tend to
depress and to sink the soul into despondency and inac-
tivity. The wisest physicians do this at present, being
led by good sense and common observation, hut they will
do it more regularly and efficiently when they have be-
fore them a thorough exhibition of the motives which
stimulate and exhilarate, and those that restrain and re-
press. In carrying out this method it is necessary that
they should know not only the bodily constitution and
habits of the patient, but also his temperament and the
aims he seta before him in life.

II. While we cannot at present specify scientifically
the precise influence exercised on the body by the vari-
ous kinds of emotion, wo can enumerate a few laws,
chiefly of an empirical character but full of interest and
importance.

The emotions through the nerves act particularly on
the heart and lungs, and thence on the organs of breath-
ing, the nerves of which spread over the face, which
may thus reveal the play of feeling. Every sudden emo-
tion quickens the action of the heart and consequently
the respiration, which may produce involuntary motions.
If our organs of respiration and circulation had been dif-

92 FOUBTH ELEMENT: THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

ferent our expression would also have been different.
" Dr. Beaumont had the opportunity of experimenting
for many mouths on a person whose stomach was ex-
posed to inspection by accident, and he states that men-
bil emotion invariably produced indigestion and disease
of the lining membrane of the stomach — a sufficient
demonstration of the direct manner in wliiuh the mind
may disorder the blood." ^ Certain emotions, such as
sudden fear, increase the peristaltic action, whereas anx-
i^'ty and grief diminish it. Sorrow of every kind, sym-
pathy, and pity act on the bowels. All strong passions
are apt to make the muscles tremble ; this is especially
the case with all aggravated forms of fear, with terror
and rage, hut is also so with anger, and even joy. The
action of the heart is increased by anger. In fear, tli©
blood ia not transferred with the usual force. Settled
malice and envy give rise to jaundice, it is said, by caus-
ing the matter secreted to be reabsorbed into the capil-
lary blood-vessels of the liver, instead of being carried
out by the branches of the bile-duct. The idea of the
ludicrous raises a mental emotion which bursts out in
laughter; grief finds an outlet in tears. Complacency
with those we converse with is manifested in smiles.
We read, in various languages, of lightness of heart, of
the paleness of fear, of the breathleesness of surprise, of
the trembling with passion, of bowels of compassion, of
tlte jaundiced eye of envy, and all these figures embody
truths recognized in universal experience. It is a curi-
ous circumstjince that young infants do not shed tears,
though they utter screams and fall into convulsions.
These last are the effects of pain, but they do not shed
tears till they have an emotion, with its idea of the ap>
petible and inappetible.

1 Moore on The Puwer of the Sou! over the Bodi/, p. ii[, ch. riiL

^— ll

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS. 93

III. Sir Charles Bell has shown, in the "Anatomy of
Expression," how close and extensive is the connection of
the organs that sustain life and the muscular system of
the face, neck, and cheat. The heart and lungs are
united by nerves, and work in unison. They have no
feeling when we touch them, yet they are alive to the
proper stimulus and they suffer from the slightest change
of position or exertion. They are also affected by the
changes, and especially the emotions, of the mind. They
acton there spiratory organs, which have numerous nerves
in the throat, windpipe, tongue, lips, and nostrils. There
is a class of nerves appropriated to "respiration." These
nerves arise in the same part of the brain. The great
nerve descends into the chest to be distributed to the
heart and lunga, and the others extend to the exterior
muscles of the chest, neck, and face. " Thus the frame
of the body, constituted for the support of the vital func-
tions, becomes the instrument of expression ; and an ex-
tensive class of passions, by influencing the heart, by
affecting that sensibility which governs the musules of
respiration, calls tliem into operation so that they become
an undeviating mark of certain states or conditions of
the mind. They are the organs of expression."

He then shows that emotions by the action of the mus-
cles chiefly affect " the angles of the mouth and the inner
extremity of the eyebrow ; and to these points we must
principally attend in all our observations concerning the
expression of passion. They are the most movable parts
of the face; in them the muscles concentre, and upon the
changes which they undergo expression is acknowledged
chiefly to depend. To demonstrate their importance we
have only to repeat the experiment made by Peter of
Cortona : to sketch a placid countenance and touch lightly
with the pencil the angle of the lips and the inner ex-

94 FOURTH ELEMENT : THE OHGANIC AFFECTION.

tremity of the eyebrows. By elevating or depressing
these we shall quickly convey the expreeaioii of grief or
of laughter,"

At this point Darwin takes up the subject in his " Ex-
pression of the Emotions " : " We have all of us as infanta
repeatedly contracted our orbicular corrugator aud pyra-
midal muscles, in oi-der to protect our eyes while scream-
ing; our progenitors have done the same during many
generations ; and though with advancing years we easily
prevent, when feeling distressed, the utterance of screams,
we cannot from long habit always prevent a alight con-
traction of the above-named muscles ; nor indeed do we
observe the contraction in ourselves, or attempt to stop
it, if slight. But the pyramidal muscles seem to be less
under the conimiind of thewil! than the other related mus-
cles ; and if they be well developed their contraction
can be checked only by the antagonistic contraction of the
central fasciee of the frontal muscle. The result which
necessarily follows, if these fasoiEe contract enei'getically,
is the oblique drawing up of the eyebrows, the puckering
of their inner ends, and the formation of rectangular
furrows on the middle of the forehead." He goes on to
say that the depression of the corners of the mouth is ef-
fected by the depressorea anguli oris. " The fibres of
this muscle diverge downwards, with the upper conver-
gent ends attached round the angles of the mouth aud to
the lower lip, a little way within the angles." " Through
steps such as these we can understand how it is that
as soon as some melancholy thought passes through the
brain there occurs a just perceptible drawing down of
the corners of the mouth, or a slight raising up of the
inner ends of the eyebrows, or both movements combined,
and immediately afterwards a slight suffusion of tears."
> Expression of Eiaolioiis, ch. vu.

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS. 95

IV. Mr. Darwin, by his own observations, and by tlie
answers given to queries which he issued aa to the vari-
ous races of mankind, especially those who have associ-
ated but little with Europeans, seems to have established
the following points, some of them, perhaps, only provis-
ionally and partially. Astonishment is expressed by the
eyes and mouth being opened wide, and by the eyebrowa
being raisird. Shaioe excites a blush when the color of
the skin allows it to be visible. When a man is indig-
nant or defiant he frowns, holds his body and head erect,
squares his shoulders, and clinches his fiats. When con-
sideiing deeply on any subject, or trying to understand
any puzzle, he is apt to frown and wrinkle the skin be-
neath tiie lower eyehds. When in low spirits the cor-
ners of the mouth are depressed, and the inner corner of
the eyebrows are raised by that muscle which the French
call the "grief muscle." The eyebrow in this state be-
comes slightly oblique, with a. little swelling at the inner
end ; and the forehead is transversely wrinkled in the
middle part, but not across the whole breadth, as when
the eyebrows are raised in surprise. When persons are
in good spirits the eyes sparkle, the akin is a little wrink-
led round and under them, and the mouth a little drawn
back at the corners. When a man sneers or snarls at
another the corner of the upper lip over the canine or
eye tooth is raised oti the side facing the man whom he
addresses. A dogged or obstinate expression may often
be recognized, being chiefly shown by the mouth being
firmly closed, by a lowering brow, and a slight frown.
Contempt is expressed by a slight protrnsion of the lips
and by turning up the nose with a slight expiration.
Disgust is shown by the lower lip being turned down, the
upper lip slightly raised, with a sudden expiration some-
thing like incipient vomiting, or like something spit out

I
I

96 FOURTH element: THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

of tile mouth. Laughter may be carried to such an ex-
treme iis to bring tears into the eyes. When a man
wishes to show thiit he cannot prevent something being
done, or cannot iiimself do something, he is apt to shrug
his shoulders, turn iuwiirds hia elbows, extend outwards
Ills hands, and open the palms, with the eyebrows raised.
Children when sulky are disposed to pout, oi- greatly pro-
tnide the lips. The head is nodded vertically in atErina-
tion, and shaken laterally in negation.

V, The expressions have commonly been produced, in
the first instance, by the emotions of which tliey are the
efEect, and commonly the sign ; and whenever the like feel-
ing arises, the expression will follow, by the law of asso-
ciation. In the first instance, and it may he for a time,
the action of the emotion had a purpose, it may be to
protect or ward off danger, or meet opposition, now it ia
continued after the meaning has gone. A man walking
along the edge oE a precipice leans away from it leat he
fall ; and he will be apt to take the same posture when
the precipice is so guarded that there is no longer danger.
The screams of terror may first have been uttered to call
in assistance, now they come forth when no assistance ia
at hand, or none is needed. The shout on the occasion
of a happy occurrence may at first have been intended to
convey the glad tidings to others, now it is the natural
expression of a crowd when it is gratified. Anger and
rage in children, and in primitive states of society, agi-
tated the whole frame and led to blows; it still rouses
the body and reddens the countenance, though it does
not cubninate in fighting. These expressions may be-
come hereditary ; this, however, because they have formed
certain lines in which nervous energy flows. There are
acts done, and attitudes assumed, which may have come
down from a remote ancestry, and telling of pi'iraitive

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS. 97

niiuiii<?rs. But it should be obaerved that there ia men-
tal as well as organic action in all this ; in the expression,
actions were fii'st called forth by emotions of the mind,
and are now called forth by a like emotion. As Darwin
expresses it, " whenevei- the same state of mind is induced,
however feebly, there is a tendency, through the force of
habit and association, for the same movements to be per-
formed." ^

VI. We see what truth there is in physiognomy. It
does not appear that the dispositions and character can
be known by the shiipe or size of any muscle or bone, say,
as has been vulgarly supposed, by the lines on the palms
of the hand, or the form of the nose, or the curlings of
the ear. But the emotions affect the nerves which leave
their mark on the face and gait. According to Bell, " In
all the exhilarating emotions, the eyebrows, eyelids, the
nostrils, and the angles of the mouth are raised. In the
depressing passions it is the reverse," Darwin adds,
" under the influence of the latter the brow is heavy, the
eyelids, cheeks, mouth, and whole head droop ; the eyes
are dull, the countenance pallid, and the respiration alow.
In joy the face expands, in grief it lengthens." There
are other signs which are natural, and, miJess repressed,
universal. The leaning forward of the body denotes in-
terest in the person or object. The nodding of the head
is understood as assent. On the other hand, the turning
of the body or of the head expresses aversion or denial.
The frown on the brow indicates displeasure. Fire in
the eye, color in the cheek, agitation in the frame, with
the clinched fists, are signs of anger. Blushing on the
face and neck arise from shame, that is, from a sensitive-
ness about the opinious of others, particularly as regards
one's person, and in regard to decency. A suEEused eye
1 ExprEsston qf the Emolions, ch. i.

98 FOURTH ELEMEjST: THE OBGANIO AFFECTION.

is a sign of pity. A softened eye, with a swelling boaom,
is a, mark of love. A stiff, upright head and figure is
often an indication of pi-ide. Relaxed features are the
issue of weariness, inclined to sleep. The drawing up or
snuffing of the nostrils exhibits disgust, the same as is
produced by an offensive smelL The smooth counte-
nance implies contentment, except the person be a hypo-
crite. Kneeling is an appropriate attitude of submission
to a superior. The upturned eye is the symbol of a soul
looking to heaven in adoration. By such causes as these
there are persons "whose heart is in their face." The
prevailing passions, say benevolence, or good-nature, or
malignity, or Bourness, or dejection, or sorrow, or timid-
ity, or self-humiliation, or lust, or haughtiness, prodaee
jin impression and expression which can be noticed and
read by the practiced eye. Persons gifted with shrewd-
ness, and who have mingled much with the world, are
thus able, with amazing accuracy, and at first sight, as
if by instinct, hut really by lengthened observation, to
guess at the character or present mental frame of those
they meet with.

VII. It should be noticed that while pleasure and pain
are very different from emotions, yet they may, and often
do, mingle with each other. I have remarked that the
emotions looking to the good are pleasant, and the pleas-
ure intensifies the emotion, say of hope and joy, and we
enjoy and seek to prolong it. On the other hand, the
emotions that contemplate the evil are always more or
less painful, and the pain may mix with and increase the
affection. We have a vivid picture o£ bodily pain by Sir
C. Bell: " The jaws are fixed and the teeth grind; the
lips are drawn laterally, and the nostrils dilated ; the
eyes are largely uncovered, and the lipa raised ; the face
ia surged with blood, and the veins of the temple and

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS. 99

rebead diatended ; the breath being checked, and the
descent of blood from the hesid impeded by the agony of
the cbeBt, the cutaneoiiB muscle of the neck sicts strongly,
and draws down the angles of the mouth. But when
joined to this the man cries out, the lips are retracted,
and the mouth open ; and we find the muscles of his body
rigid, straining, struggling." Now, aa all the affections
that arise from the idea of evil, especially all the malign
affections, produce pain, we find the sensation mingling
and acting with the passion, and the result may be a
terrible struggle, such as we see in Laoeoon, and often in
the wounded or murdered man. The fight witJi the suf-
fering often adds intense violence, such as writhing and
blows, to the proper action of the passion.

VIII. Bnt bodily effects may be produced not only by
real, but by imaginary objects. We have seen that every
emotion implies an idea. This idea is very often of a
sensible object, that is, of an object made known to na
by the senses. Now it seems to be pretty well estab-
lished that there are organs of the brain necessary in
order to the perception of material objects. Smell, as a
psychical act, ia not in the nostrils, nor heaving in the
ear, nor touch in the nerves, nor vision in tbe eye. There
is need of a cerebral action in order to a conscious sensa-
tion, and in order to a perception of the objects. It is
very generally acknowledged that tbe senses may have a
common centre of aenaation, a sensorium in the brain, or
more probably, that each sense has a local centre. Phy-
siologists are not quite agreed aa to what these centres
are. It is enongh for our present purpose that there is
either a general centre, or that there are special centres.

But this is not the point which it is necessary for us to
establish. There is a further truth approximately and
provisionally determined. It is that the organ of the

100 FOURTH ELEMENT : THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

brain necessary to our having a perception of tlie object
18 also necessary to our reproducing it as a phantasm, in
memory or imagination. Thus : suppose tliat tliere is an
organ o£ vision in the tkalami optici, or more probably,
farther up in the cerebrum, this organ is needed not only
to give us the original figure, say the form of our mother,
but is needed in order to onr being able to call up her
image and to think of her when she is absent. The same
remark applies to all the other senses ; we need the audi-
tory organ to recall a sound, and the organ of taste and
smell to recall flavors, and of feeling to image tactual
impressions, and of the muscular sense to think of ob-
jects in motion.' But we have seen that when ideas are
of objects appetible or inappetible they stir up emotion.
We have here a glimpse of the way in which the feel-
ings work in the brain. The idea which evokes the feel-
ing, and is its substratum, works in the cerebrum; and
the excitement produced, like the original sensation, may

■ Professoi Ferripr, in Functioat of the Brain, Laa bppn snceessfnl in
Bhoning that tli^re are oigam of the brain wliith are the centi'es of, or at
least are gomehow conceraed with, the sensntiona ntid percHptiona given
b; the difTerent iwnBea. The organic or Tisceml Knsations are felt in the
occipital lob^a, towards the lower peripherf. Smell and taste need the
tubicalam coraa ammrniia. Touch is felt in the hippacaiiipal re^OD. Sight
has an organ in the <7^rus angalarii. Hearing has iln centre in the snpr-
n'or lewporo-s/ikeBoidal convolntion. All theae centres are rather in thp back
part ot ihe hrain, which seems the orsran of sensation. The centres of
motion seem to be in the Frontal regions, wliich nre the Dr^;'ans of intelli-
gence and will. I iliiiik we haye evidence that when we are recalling or
imaging any object originally perceived by the senses we need the corciir-
Tence of the corresponding centres of the brain ; of the viscprnl centre be-
fore we can conceive of an object of appetite; of the taste and smell cen-
tres before we csn conceive of an odor ; oF the centre of toncb in order tn
conceive of the feeling objects ; of the centi'e of seeing in order to onr
conceiving colors and visible forms ; and of the centre of hearing in order
to onr conceiving bodies as eoanding. I nmy refer to an article on Mind
and Brain, in which 1 have discussed these eubjcctK, in the Princeton A»
view, Mareb, 1S"8.

SOME EMPIEICAL LAWS.

101

be partly mental and partly bodily. The bodily excite-
ment, often rising to agitation, is very manifest, and
is seen in nervous movements, in changes of color, in
paleness and redness of countenance, in blushing and in
trembling, in laughter and in tears. It is the office of
psychology to unfold the emotions; it is the business of
physiology to trace the bodily affections from the brain
downwards to the nerves and fibres.

It is possible that when a sensible object raises emo-
tion the action proceeds from the cerebral centres of
perception down upon the motor nerves, and thence upon
the bodily frame generally. It seems almost certain that
this ia so when the object raising the emotion is not pres-
ent, and wiien we have merely an idea of it. The idea,
let me suppose, is of an appetible object. The mother is
eagerly expecting the return of a son, after an absence of
years. The son, at a distance, knows that his mother is
dying and may expire any instant. The widow is think-
ing of her lately departed husband. We recall the spot
in which we saw a dear friend killed. We cannot forget
the shriek which came from a man in agony. Or, using
a very different sense organ, we have a remembrance of
a pool with offensive odor. The murderer has a vivid
image before him of the murdered man, of his writhing,
and of his wounds. In many such cases the mental idea
seems to have much the same effect on the organ of per-
ception as the very presence of the object would have.

The idea of an emotional object, that is, of an object
raising emotion, may become visible in the bodily frame
and on the countenance. A smile appears on the mother's
face when she sees her child playing, and there will be a
tendency to a like smile when she merely imagines him
to be happy. A sadness will gather and settle on the
countenance of a father grieving over the loss of a son.

102 FOURTH ELEMENT : THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

Cherished luat will come forth in a bloated countenance.
You may often discover the nature of the feelings by the
play upon the features of one who ia walking or seated
in a room without being conscious of any eye being fixed
upon bira. You may often know whether business is pros-
pering or not by the expression on the merchant's coun-
tenance. You may discover whether the news conveyed
by a letter received ia good or bad, by the look of the
reader.

As with real so with imaginary scenes. We often see
pleasure or terror expressed on the countenance when
persons are dreaming. As with night-dreams so with
day-dreams, the face and the whole frame may be af-
fected by them. There may be sighs di-awn forth, or
teara ahed, or laughter bursting nut, by the pictures in a
novel, or the creations of the imagination. There may
be marked depression, gendered by the fear of evil.
Terror, arising from danger, has turned the hair from
black to white, and Sir H. Holland tells us of a young
man on whom the same effect was produced simply by
illusory images. There may be writhings of body, pro-
duced by the remembrance of sin.

IX. "I have often remarked," says Burke, "that on
mimicking the looks and gestures of angry or placid, or
frightened or daring men, I have involuntarily found my
mind turned to that passion whose appearance I en-
deavored to imitate." Here ia an important fact, but it
is not correctly stated ; that which comes first is put last.
The only effective way of mimicking a passion is to call
up by the fancy an object or scene fitted to awaken the
feeling.

I rather think that sympathetic action is to be ac-
counted for very much in this way: we put ourselves
in the position of others, by calling up by the idea the

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS. 103

same feelings, which go out in the same maiiifeatationfl.
Tears alied are apt to call fortli tears in tlie beholder, or
quite as readily in the listener to the tale told which
makes lis realize the position. It is the same with
laughter, which ia apt to be echoed back till the noise
rings throughout a large assembly. When a company
as a whole is moved it is difficult for any person to keep
his composure. An alarm of fire will spread through a
vast congregation, the greater number of whom are act-
nally cognizant of no cause of fear. A panic started by
a few soldiers who believe that they see danger will
often seize a whole army, the great body of whom know
no ground for the terror. It is easier for an orator, say
a preacher, if only he can get up feeling, to move a large
audience than a thin one. There is a reflection of
emotion from every person upon every other. We call
this contagion, but it is contagion pi-oduced by people's
being led to cherish the same feelings producing the
same outward manifestation. The very contagion of
disease is made more powerful by persons being afraid
of, and BO dwelling much on, t!ie infection.

If tliis be 80, tlien imitation, oi- at least sympathetic
imitation, is to be explained in this way : If we have a
feeling of trust in certain persona, say our neighbor, or
our friends, or our party, or our associates, or our special
companions, then we are inclined to act as they act, but
by onr coming to share their feelings, their affections,
and antipathies. When we have a great admiration
towards any one for his courage, or his magnanimity,
we are especially led to copy him. A brave commander,
by going before, may be able to lead his troops into cer-
tain death. We have all seen a noble gift, on tlie part
of an individuid, calling forth the plaudits and the
liberality of many others. The same principle may

104 FOURTH ELEMENT : THE OHGA-NIC AFFKCTION.

overcome the sense of right and lead us to " follow a mul-
titude to do evil."

In this way we can so far account for tbose violent
convulsions which have been produced sympathetically
by religious and other forms of excitement. We have
a melancholy record of these in Hecker's " The Epidem-
ics of the Middle Ages." Such was the dimcing mania
which spread over so many countries in the fourteenth
century. We have a number of cases collected in
Moore's " Power of the Soul over the Body." He men-
tions the strange delusion that " seized the minds of men
in Germany, immediately after the effects of the Black
Death had subsided. Tlie delusion took the form of a
wild dance, known as that of St. John or St. Vitus. It
was propagated like a demoniacal epidemic over the whole
of Germany and the neighboring countries to the north-
west. The sufferers formed circles, hand in hand, and
continued dancing for hours together, in wild delirium,
until they fell to the ground from exhaustion." We
have instances of the same kind in the convulsionaires
who appeared in France in the last century. We have
like examples in the present day in the dancing dervishes
of the East, in the contortions of the Jumpers, and in the
prostrations which are encouraged in misguided religious
revivals. These affections seem to be produced by per-
sons entering into the feelings of those with whom they
sympathize, and thus bringing on the like bodily expres-
sions. They can be subdued, not by reasoning or by
commands, or even directly by threats, but by a counter
irritation, that is, an idea raising a very different feeling.
" The great Boerhaave had a number of patients seized
Ivith epileptic fita in a hospital from sympathy with a
person who fell down in convulsions before them. This
physiciiui was puzzled how to act, for the sympathetic

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS. 105

fita were as violent as those ariaing from bodily disease ;
but reflecting that they were produced by an impreaaion
oil the mind, he resolved to eradicate them by a still
etronger impression, and so directed hot irons to be pre-
pared and applied to the first person who subsequently
bad a fit: the consequence waa that not one was seized
afterwards." "A French medical practitioner of great
merit relates that in a convent of nuns one of the fair
inmates was seized with a strange impulse, and soon the
whole sisterhood followed her example and mewed reg-
ularly every day for hours together." This continued
until " the nuns were informed that a company of sol-
diers were to surround the convent, and to whip all the
holy sisterhood with rods, till they promised to mew no
more." " Cardan relates that in another nunnery a siater
was impelled to bite her companions, and this disposition
also spread among the sisterhood ; but, instead of being
confined to one nunnery, it spread from cloister to clois-
ter throughout the whole of Europe."

X. We are here in the heart of a subject which can-
not be cleared up at present, — the reaction of mind and
body. If it be true that emotion produces a certain
bodily state, it is also true that some bodily states tend
to produce the corresponding feelings. Dr. Braid, in his
very curious experiments as to hypnotism, found that a
person put in the attitude of devotion became devout. I
am not dispoaed to speak dogmatically about this mys-
terious phenomenon, but I believe that association of
ideas has to do with it. The act of kneeling will natu-
rally suggest the feehnga we cherished when we knelt.
If we take the attitude of striking the idea of fighting
will be suggested. If the expression of affection, or
of pity, is assumed, it will call up the feeling associated
with it. In the veiyact of bringing a cloud on the brow
the idea of care will be brought up.

106 FOUETB ELEMENT: THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

XI. When an emotion has an accompanying expres-
BJon it will always crave for that expression. If the
tendency is repressed by circumstances, or by an act of
the will, there is produced a restrained and uncomfort-
able sensation. At times it is distressing when the sense
of the ludicrous, raised by an awkward occuiTence, is kept
in, as it must often be when we are in a grave company,
or in the house of God. What a luxury, when the posi-
tion is changed, to have an opportunity of indulging in
ringing laughter. How pained are we when grief can-
not find an outlet. What a relief when it outfiows in

XII. The question arises. What effect has the expres-
sion, or the resti-aiuing of it, upon the emotion? lu some
cases the expi-ession seems to lessen, and in others to in-
crease, the feeling. In like manner, the repression in
some circumstances seems to cool the affection, and in
other cases to warm it. This difference so far depends
on the nature of the underlying appetence, according aa
it contemplates a good to be desired, or an evil to be
avoided. If it contemplates the good, the sensation wiU
be pleasurable, and will allure us to prolong and renew
the emotion. If it looks to the evil, the feeling is pain-
ful, and the recurrence will be avoided. But more de-
pends on the strength of the affection. The case is like
that of a wind blowing on a fire: if it is weak it may
extinguish it, if it is strong it may fan it into a confla-
gration. To vary our comparison, if the passion has not
fixed itself it may be overturned ; if it is rooted the
storm may only make its roots strike deeper into the
heart; if it is feeble its waters will be expended in the
outflow J if it is powerful then it will bear down all op-
position, and flow more violently than before. In the
one case the repression will put out thv flame, and in the

SOME EMPIRICAL LAWS, 107

other the fire will bum in a Btnoldering state, and be
ready to burst out.

XIII. Our physiological psychologiata, especially Her-
bert Spencer, are forever usmg language which seeins to
imply that emotions are mere nervous actions excited by
disturbances or "sliocka," and flowing out either in dif-
fused or in restricted channels. By all means let them
examine the nature and laws of the nerves, and they
may enunciate them less vaguely and more scientifically
than they have yet been able to do. But even when
they have aeeomplished this they will not thereby have
come to the conscious elements, the ideas and attach-
ments, which are the essential properties of emotion aa
we experience it. The fear of bankruptcy is one thing,
and the nervous agitation which accompanies it is another
thing. They may act and react on each other; but still
they have and keep their separate properties, the one set
made known by consciousnesa and the other by the senses.
The remembrance on the part of a mother of a child
lately deceased may liberate forces, which will flow iu
their accustomed channels of tears and agitations, as they
did when the misfortune happened; but the first grief
and the second grief are both mental. When the mother
thinks of that son, of his affection for her, and of his in-
teresting ways, always with the conviction that she shall
see him no more, this is not a product of the nervous
ebullition but rather its cause, in truth its concause. We
can account for all this flow of idea and feeling by the
association of ideas. The burst of nervous force does not
oonstitnte the emotion, but b its result and expression.

I defy any man to explain or even describe what we

experience without bringing in the mental element. I

^aote the summary given by Spencer of his views:'

1 Peschotoijs, part VIII. 501.

108

FOUETH ELEMENT : THE ORGANIC AFFECTION.

K then

"Every feeling has for its primary concomitant a. diffused
nervous discharge which excites the muscles at large, in-
cluding those that move tlie vital orgiina, in a degree pro-
portionate to the strength of the feeling." "A secondary
concomitant of feeling in general, as it rises in intensity,
is an excitement by the diffused discharge first of the
small muscles attached to easily moved parts, such as the
face, afterwards of more numerous and larger muscles
moving heavier parts, and eventually of the whole body."
" Passing from the diffused to the restricted discharges,
there has been established in the course of evolution a
connection between the nervous plexuses in which any
feeling is localized and the sets of muscles habitually
brought into play for the satisfaction of the feeling.
Whence it happens that the rise of this feeling shows it-
self by a partial contraction of these muscles, causing
those external appearances called the natural language of
the feeling." According to this showing tha feeling (I
have put it in Italics) is the primary element and the
others concomitants.

There is no propriety in calling the nervous affection
a correlate of the emotion, or representing the two, after
the fashion of the school, as the sides of one thing. They
are two things, each with its properties, but acting and
reacting on each other, and both should have a place in
a full account oE the phenomenon.

But instead of pursuing these general observations at
this place, 1 postpone the further consideration of the
organic effects to the next book, where I will place them
under the heads of the several emotions as I classify
them.

BOOK SECOND.

CLASSIFICATION AND DESCRIPTION OF

THE EMOTIONS.

DIVISION OF THE EMOTIONS.

Tee emotions are so numeroua tbat it is necessary to
claasify them. This is by no means an easy work; still
a map may be drawn to indicate tbe boundaries and the
several provinces. Our careful survey, with an analysis,
will enable ua to accomplish this.

There is, as we have seen, an idea involved in all emo-
tion. Let us fix on this as the ground of the distribu-
tiou. Our divisions and subdivisions will be determined
and given by the nature of the objects of which we have
an idea.

The circumstance that in all feeling we have an idea J
of objects as appetiblb or inappetible furnishes a
line which divides our emotional nature, like the human
body, into two parallel and symmetrical sides. And here
it may be proper to state that instead of the somewhat
technical phrases " appetible " and " inappetible " we
may often employ the words "good" and "evil." It must
be distinctly understood, however, that in doing so we do
not mean to designate by the terras anything morally
good or the opposite. The appetible, which we call the
good because our nature clings to it, may in fact be mor-
ally evil, and what we turn away fiom as inappetible
may be morally good. Using the phrases in the sense
now explained, we find that to every emotion contem-
plating the good there is a corresponding emotion con-

112 DIVISION OF THE EMOTIONS.

templating the evil. These have been called by Hartley
the Grateful and the Ungrateful. Thus, if there be hope
arising from the idea of an object as about to bring hap-
piness, there IB also fear springing from the apprehension
of an object as likely to be followed by pain. If there
be joy derived from the possession of good, there ia like-
wise sorrow from the presence of ill. Eveiy feeling
looking to the light has thus a shadow arising from the
obstruction of the light. These constitute the attrac-
tions and repulsions, the centripetal and centrifugal
forces which keep the feelings in motion in their spheres
in our emotional system, which is more wonderful than
the pUnetary one.

But this dichotomy does not so distribute the emotions
as to enable us to discover the peculiarities o£ each. It
is like the divisiou in natural histoiy into the two sexes,
separating the thiugs which are most intimately con-
nected in their nature and which ought to be viewed in
their mutual relation. So we must look out for some
other ground or grounds of classification. Let us con-
sider the idea as directed to animate or .to inanimate
objects, say on the one hand to our fellow-men or the
lower animals, and on the other hand to objects of
nature, or of art, supposed to be beautiful, picturesque,
ludicrous, sublime, or the opposite. This gives another
bifid cleavage of a convenient kind.

Another distinction will require to be attended to. It
is acknowledged by all that feelings are called forth
when we contemplate the good and evil as bearing on
ourselves. These, being self-regarding, may be called
Egoistic. But I have been maintaining in this work
that man has a native affection which leads him to feel
an interest in his fellow-raen, and is capable of being
moved by whatever affects them. These affections have

DIVISION OF THE EMOTIONS, 113

been called altruistic. We are naturally inclined to
wish tliat others may possess whatever we reg:ird as ap-
petible, and that they may be preserved from all that we
regard as evil. This is the kindliness towards a brother
man which will Sow out like a fountain unless it is re-
strained by aelfialiiieas, and which we should seek to
have so elevated and sanctified that it may become the
grace of benevolence, leading ua to do unto others even
as we would that they should do unto us. Nor should
it be forgotten that among others we should give the
highest place to God as our great benefactor and as
possessed of perfect excellence.

But these dividing lines do not distribute the whole
wide province into suiEuiently minute and specific fields.
So we may further consider the ideas as directed to the
past, the present, or the future; this gives what Dr.
Thomas Brown calls the RETROSPECTIVE, IMMEDIATE,
and Peospectivb emotions.

These separations will analyze the emotions for us as
the prism does the light. There is a difficulty in finding
phrases to express the various kinds, shades, and degrees
of feeling. But there will be none in spreading out the
components of any given emotion and arranging them
in their orders. The divisions in fixing on the differ-
entia of the class will always enable us to give a good
definition of any emotion. Thus, " fear is the emotion
(or prospective emotion) arising when we have an idea
of evil about to come upon us,"

In now proceeding to give an analysis and description
of the various classes of emotions, I wish to be under-
stood that I profess to treat chiefly of the mental, which
is indeed the main, the essential element. The grand
defect of the account given of the emotions in the present
day, by the physiological psychologists, is that they dwell

114 DIVISION OF THE EMOTIONS.

exclusively on the organic affections and leave npon n8
the impression that these constitute the feelings, and
have overlooked the more importsmt characteristica of
this depjtrtment of our nature. While tliey give ua
many valuahle physiological phenomena which so far ac-
count for the rise of the feelings, or which are the prod-
uct of the feelings, and therefore their expression and
their sign, they utterly fail to bring us Into immediate
contact with the emotions themselves, as these are ex-
perienced by ns, and fall under the eye of consciousness,
and as they influence the conduct and sway the destiny
of mankind.

But while I regard the emotions as psychical and not
physical, I have not overlooked the organic producU.
In the chapter that follows this I give some account of
the influence exercised on the body by the feelings of the
mind. In doing so I make free use of the careful ob-
servations of Sir Charles Bell, and of Darwin, and the
more popular descriptions given by some others, such aa
Cogan on " The Passions."

I have not been able to give an account of the bodily
effects of all tlie various classea of emotions. In partic-
ular I have found a difficulty in finding the signs of the
feelings contemplating the good. I rather think that
these do not leave so distinct a mark on the countenance,
and on the frame generally, as the affections which look
to the evil. The former class, especially the benign
affections, produce a pleasant sensation, and work in
harmony with our organism, and the only miirks of them
are a healthy body and a happy expression, which can be
observed by all but can scarcely be described. The
other class, especially the malign aflrections, are alvraya
80 far painful, and produce deranging effects which phys-
iol(^ should observe.

BMOTIONS AS DmEGTED TO AHIMATB OBJECTS.

HETROBPECTIVB

These arise from the contemplation of good or evil in
the past, and this either to ourselves or others. They
are the feelings gendered by the ideas brought up directly
or indirectly by the memory.

Self-Satisfaction or Regeet is the general form of
this class oE emotions which, however, may appear in sev-
eral modes, and may differ in intensity.

Oomplacenay or DispHcencif. Here we do not look
very minutely or aearchingly into special deeds. Upon
the whole, we are satisfied with the past, with what we
have done, and with its results. Or we are not pleased
with what we have accomplished, with our conduct, oar
success, or the position we have reached. These senti-
ments may be for good or for evil. The former, if it
does not gender Self-RighteousneiB, which is a sin, may
take the form of Self-Esteem, to sustain us and keep us
from doing an unworthy deed. The latter, if a sense ot
sin, may lead to Mumility, which, however, is a grace,
and not a mere feeling ; but, if directed exclusively to the
dark side of our experience, may become a Self-HiBiatit-
faction, which hinders courageous action.

Self- Congratulation or Self-Reproach. It may be a
passing seutimeut of self-approval, because we have done

116 EiiOTWNS AS DIRECTED TO AJ^IMATE OBJECTS.

the brave deed, or offered the Binart remark that we did,
or it may be a momentary diasatisf action with ourselves,
because we were ao thoughtless, so foolish, or because we
neglected a precious opportunity of adding to our wealth,
or influence, or of doing and receiving good. It may be
a habitual dwelling on our own supposed good deeds,
generating Sdf-Sufficienci/, which may be inoffensive (ex-
cept to ourai'lves) if we do not boast of our superiority
to others, but very offensive when it leads us to deny the
merits, or grieve at the success, of others. Or it may be
a habitual Sdf-DepTeciation, caused by the persona brood-
ing forever on their mistakes, and looking as if tliey were
making an apology for themselves. It may rise to a feel- "
ing of Self-SatisfacHon and Self-Adulation, by thinking
of our achievements, of our abilities, of our courage, or
superiority to others. Or it may sink into a spirit of
Se^- Accusation or Self- Chidirig, whioh chafes the spirit
and prostrates the energies.

The feeling varies according to the nature of the good
or evil contemplated. It is a curious circumstance that
every one seems to have something of which he is apt to
be vain ; it looks as if no one could live comfortably with-
out some supposed escellenca. It may be his talents, his
shrewdness, his tact, his eminence in some particular
branch of study or trade or trick, or it may be simply
his personal appearance, his manners, bis dress, his equi-
page, his agility in walking, in dancing, or riding. If he
fails in this the feeling engendered is Mortification. I£
he is shorn of everything of which he used to be proud,
the disappointment may sink deep into the heart, and
the habitual mood is that of emptiness, relieved only by
a gnawing at the vitals, and going on towards Bitterness,
and a Timon-like hatred of women as women, or of men
as men. The sentiment of regret may have a beneficial

RETROSPKCTIVE EMOTIONS,

117

tendency, or the opposite, acconJing as it is used or Is
abused. On the one hand, it may rebuke and humble us,
and 8(> lead us to avoid past miatakea and pursue a wiser
course for the future. On the otlier hand, it may ferment
and sour into vinegar, and become Chagrin. Disap-
pointed lovers, authors, artists, politicians, and speculii-
tors are apt to fall into this humor. If they are young
they may be able to pass thi-ough this chill, and yet re-
coTer their hope and activity. But when the grand cli-
macteric of life has been reached, and the animal spirits
liave been drunk up by repeated disappointments, the
man may be tempted to give up all effort, and abandon
himself to a satisfied or dissatisfied helplessness, accom-
panied with a bitterness against individuals, or the world
at large, going out probably in spiteful remarks. We
must all have met with disiippointed men or disappointed
maidens yielding to this feeling; still retaining a genuine
benevolence in the depths of their hearts, but maintain-
ing an attitude of suspicion even of proffered kindness,
and shrinking from every proposal to fight the battle of
life anew, after having failed. Of all people, I have
found these to be the most difficult to gain ; no sunshine
will thavf the eternal snows upon these high and unap-
proachable mountain-tops.

The contemplation of the past may communicate pleas-
ures. How delightful, with a brother, or sister, or old
acquaintance, to revive and, as it were, live over again
the scenes of our childhood and youth ; in imagination to
revisit old spots, and to converse with old acquaintances,
it may be about old friends, now gone from this world.
The eye gives a color to distant objects, makes mountains
blue which are not blue in themselves, and clouds purple
and gold which, if we were in them, would be felt aa dull
and dripping mist; so the imagination, especially when

KSIOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIJfATB OB.TECTS.

we are in a good humor, gives a rich color to the scenes
of the past which in theniBelvea were tame or irksome
or troubled. In piirticular, suffering, unpleasant in the
prospect and when present, may become pleasant in the
remembrance, as we think of trials through which we
have passed, and dangers overcome, and victories gained
in hard fights. Emotions for which we have not special
names may thus be gendered by the contemplation of
the past, and may be called the Amotions of Pleasant
Memorieg.

It is proper that we should look on the past, for it is
from the experience of the past, both from our success
and our failures, that we are to gather lessons for the fut-
ure. Bnt it is foolish to dwell forever on past joys, past
sorrows, or past sins. Some would extract a continued
and perpetual delight from contemplating the past. But
as we do so the flavor will be found to have lost its
power, the sweetness to have become insipid while we
roll it as a sweet morsel under our tongue. Instead of
sucking on when we have drawn out the moisture, we
had better throw away the rind and go forth to seek
other and fresh objects of interest. As to our sufferings,
we need not look back forever on the darkness; and we
are especially to be on our guard against cherishing a
perpetual malignity towards those who are supposed to
have inflicted them. Aa to our sins, our first and im-
perative duty is to have them blotted out, and our second
to remember them only so far as to keep us humble and
watchful; any further mastication may only distract and
sink us, or perhaps even ferment the old passions by call-
ing up the tempting objects anew and anew,

Sdf-Afprobation or Self- Condemnation, in which we
contemplate our past conduct as being coomiendahle or
faulty. This may be a mere passing ebullition of Self

ERTBOSPECTIVE EMOTIONS. 119

Gratttlation, ths.t we have accomplished some feat, or of
Self- Humiliation, because we have fallen into aome im-
prudence. Or it may become a habitual feeling of i^e^-
Satiifaction and Self-Adulation, in which we are ever
thinking of our imagined virtues, and, if of a communi-
cative temper, ever speaking of tliem, — more, perhaps,
to our own gratification than that of others, who would
rather hear tlieir own praises proclaimed. Or it may, as
it is indulged in, become a constant complaint and a Re-
pining, wasting the energy which might be devoted to a
good purpose.

Moral Approbation and Disapprobation. Here
a peculiar and very powerful and keen element is intro-
duced ; it is the power of conscience. This I cannot
treat of in the present work ; I refer to it simply as hav-
ing an Appetence, which, when gratified or frustrated,
raises an emotion. When we can look upon a certain
conduct of ours as being right, we have a feeling of Self-
Approval which may soothe or cheer as, provided it does
not become a sense of merit which leads us to justify
ourselves before God. On the other band, when we do
that which is morally evil ; when we cherish a licen-
tious, malignant, or unholy feeling, or do a deed con-
demned by the moral law, the inward judge condemns
and proceeds to punish.

There may be the Testimony of a Good Conscience.
This may be a source of comfort to some, of unspeakable
comfort which bears them up under calumny and perse-
cution. When an innocent man is charged with guilt,
his main support must arise from the assurance that he
has not done the deed charged, or that the deed, as he
is ready to maintain, is not evil. He Bpeeially needs this
when public opinion is against him, when enemies are
stirred up to malign him, and his very friends believe
him to be guilty and abandon him.

120 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

Eemorae. I fear that in the great body of mankind
the couBcience is in a ehimbering state, not dead but dor-
mant. There is a secret feeling tliiit all is not right, and
men are afraid to look into the state of tlie heart lest
dark disclosures should be made; just as the murderer
would visit anv spot on this world's surface rather than
that at which the deed was committed, just as the crimi-
nal would avoid the bar of the judge, so would the sinner
avoid all those thoughts that would remind him of his
sin. But there is a power in conscience which will com-
pel us, in spite of all repression, to notice the neglects of
duty of which we are guilty from day to day. The re-
proaches, though individually transient, do yet, by their
recurrence, exercise a powerful influence, — they resem-
ble those noxious ephemera which make up in nnmber
what they want in strength ; and while the individual
perishes the genus survives. People are to a lai^e ex-
tent unconscious of it, and if the charge were made upon
them they would repel it ; but I believe a large portion of
human dissatisfaction springs from these constantly rising
and suppressed accusations, which have much the same
influence on our peace as a diseased nervous system or
deranged digestive organs. And, in spite of all efforts
to check them, there will be times when convulsive as-
saults of conscience will break in upon the satisfaction
of the most self-satisfied, and start " like a guilty thing
upon a fearful summons." Man's peace is in this respect
like the sultry heat of a summer's day, close and disa-
greeable at the time, and ever liable to ba broken in
upon hy thunders and lightnings.

Among the Retrospective emotions are those which
arise from the idea of good or evil supposed to have been
inflicted by our fellow-men. I am not sure that we have
?xpressiona in our language to designate alt these feelings
with their boundary lim-s and shnd^a of difference.

RETROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS.

121

BbnIQSANCY, Thanlrfulnegg, Oratitude, The feeling
may be little more than a mere lively interest in those
who have shown some interest in us, or bestowed a favor,
or done us a good service. In such cases it is a mere
complacency leading ua to delight in the society of those
who have been kind to us. But it may rise to a thank-
ful and grateful spirit. It should be noticed that grat-
itude in its hightst forms is an exercise of love which
implies well-wishing or benevolence, and is more than
emotion, — it implies an act of the will, and ia a virtue
or grace of a high order.

Anger, Irritation, Temper, Indignation. The pas-
sions falling under this head arise from the idea of ill
usage received. When the appetence is feeble, or the
—offense a small one, an annoyance ia given which pro-
duces an iiTitation lite the hite of a mosquito. These
diBtuvbaiices may come like gnats, in streams or swarms,
and produce temper ever liable to be ruBIed by neigh-
bors, by members of our families, or those we meet with
in the business and society of the world. Very often
the offenses which riiise the keenest feeling may seem
very small to mankind generally, but they have wounded
the individual in the tenderest part, — his sense of honor
or his ruling spring of action, and his passion boils ; an
attack ia made, or a challenge is sent. We call the emo-
tion indignation, when the feeling is of a lofty kind, stirred
up by baseness or injustice. An indignation against
evil is an element in all truly noble character. A com-
placency towards sin, with a constant apology for it, or
palliation of it, or excusing it, is a weakness, or rather
it is an iniquity, and may make us partakers of the of-
fense.

Rage, Wrath, Malignancy, Re»tntment, Vengeance,
VlndictivetiesB. We may bo angry and sin not ; but thia

124 £J10T10SS AS DIBSCTED TO AMIUTK OBJECTS.

si8t of a mere sensation, pleasant or unpleaaatit, and the
ft-pling in this cam scarcely rises to the dignity of an
emotion. Bat being intellect utilized it may Iwid on to
Hn idea vrhicb generates an emotion, say that of beauty.
*' Grief," says Cogiin, ** b sometimes considered as sy-
iionj-moas witli sorrow. At other times it expresses more
silent, deep, and painful affections ; sucli as are inspired
by domestic cahkmities ; particuhirly by the loss of friends
and relatives, or by the distress, either of body or mind,
experienced by those whom we love and value." The ex-
tent of the feeling depends in all eases on the strength of
the appetence, and on the d^ree to which it is gratified
or thwarted. The phntses, joyful and sorrowful, mMy be
applie<l to all the feelings fulling under the head of the
iraniedixte. Let us follow them from their weaker to
their stronger forms.

" In joy tlie eyebrow is raised modenUlj bat without ftny angn-
larity, ihe furuhead is smooth, the eye tall., lively, aod sparkling,
the nostril is moderately indated, and a smile is on the lips. In all
the pxhilarating enotions, the eyelid, the nostril, aad the angle of
the mouth are raided. In the deprvsning passions it is the reverse.
For exiimple, in discontent, the brow is clouded, ihe nose is pecul-
iarly arched, and the angle of the moulb drawn in." (Bell, Essay
vii.) ■' Laura Bridgman from her blindness and deafness could not
have Required any expression through imitation, yet when a letter
froiH a beloved friend was communieated to her by gesture language,
!<he laughed and clapped tier bands, and the color mounted to her
cbeelis. On other occasions the has been seen to stamp for joy-"
(Darwin, c. viii.) " Joy quickens the circulation of the blood, and in
its first icnpnlse it frequently excites violent palpitations of the heart.
It renders the eyes peculiarly lively and animated, and sometimes,
when the mind has been previously in a state of anxioua fear, it
t^ti mil bites the lachrymal gland to the secretion of tears, accompa-
nied with redness and a sen^tion of warmth in the countenance."
" Unusual vivacity in the eyes and smiles upon the counienance are
»(-compBnied by jovful acciamntiuns, cliippiuij: of hands, and va-
rious other lively gestures. Vl'lieru the mind is strougly agitated

IMMEDIATE EMOTIONS.

123

with arma rigidly euspenJet! by his sides. With Europeans the fiats
are commonly cUnched." (Darwin, c. x.)

" When the blast of vnr blows in our cars,

Then imitale the iiclion of the tiger;

Stiffen tbe e I news, Buinition up the blood,

Then lend the eye a lerrible aspect;

Now set (be teeth and ntretch the nostril wide.
Hold bird the brcatb and bend up every spirit
To his full beight."

SHAKE3PKAKK, fftBrjr V.

*' In rage the fealurea are unsteady; the eye!)alls are seen largely;
they roll and are iiillamfd. The front ia alter lately ktiiC and raised
in furrows by the tiioiion of the eyebrows, the nostrils are inflated
to the utmost. The lips are swelkd, and, being drawn by t)ie mus-
cles, open the corners of tiie mouth. The whole visage is sonietimeB
pale, aoinetimes turgid, dark, and almost livid j the words are de-
livtrred strongly through the fixed teeth." (Bell, Essay vii.)

" Under rage the action of the heart is much accelerated, or it may
be much disturbed. The face reddens or it becomes purple from
the impeded return of the blood, or may turn deadly pale. The
respiration is labored, the chest heaves, and tbe dilated nostrils
quiver. The whole body often trembles. The voice is aSectcd.
The teeth are clinched or ground together, and tbe muscular sys-
tem ia commonly stimulated to violent, almost frantic, action. But
the gestures of a man in this state usually differ from the purpose-
iesB writhingB and stru^les of one suffering from an agony of pain;
for they represent more or less plainly the act of striking or fighting
with an enemy." (Darwin, c. iii.)

SECTION II.

IMMEDIATE EMOTIONS.

Joy and SoeroW. These arise from tlie contempla-
tion of a good or eyil posaessed. The emotions are in-
tensified when the good has been attained by labor, or by
a contest with evil. The good and evil will be as the
appetences, original or ucquired, and the consequent feel-
ingB may have a like divei-sity. They may possibly con-

124 EMOTIONS AS DIBCCTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

pirtt of a. mere sensation, pleasant or iinpleiiauiit, and the
feeling in this case scarcely rises to the tligaity of an
emotion. But being iiitellectuiilized it may le;id on to
Hn idea which generates an emotion, say that of beauty.
"Grief," says Cogun, "is sometimea considered aa sy-
nonymous with sorrow. At other times it expresses more
silent, deep, and painful affections; such as are inspired
by domestic calamities ; particularly by the tosa of friends
and relatives, or by the distress, either of body or mind,
exfwi-ienced by those whom we love and value." The ex-
tent of the feeling depends in all cases on the strength of
the appetence, and on the degree to which it is gratified
or tiiwarted. The phrases, joj'ful and sorrowful, may be
applied to all the feeUnga falling under the head of the
immediate. Let us follow them from their weaker to
their stronger forms.

" In joy the eyebrow is raised moderately but without any angu-
larity, the forehead is smootli, tbe eye full, lively, and sparkling,
the Doatril is moderately ioUatec), and a smile ia on the lips. In ail
the exhilarating emotione, the eyelid, the nostril, and the angle of
the mouth are raised. In the depressing passions it is the reverse.
For exnmple, in discontent, the brow ia clouded, the nose is pecul-
iarly arched, and the angle of the moulh drawn in." (Belt, Essay
vii.) " Laura Bridgman from her falindnesa and deafness could not
have acquired any expression through imitation, yet when a letter
from a beloved friend was communicated to her by gesture language,
dhe laughed and clapped her hands, and the color mounted U her
cheeks. On other occasions she has been seeu to stamp for joy."
(Darwin, c. viii.) " Joy quickens the circulation of the blood, and In
its first impulse it f requently excil«s violent palpitations of the heart-
It renders the eyes pecniiarly lively and animated, and sometimes,
when (he mind has been pi'eviously in a state of anxioos fear, it
ftimiilates the lachrymal gland tj^ the secretion of tears, accompa-
nied with redness and a sennation of warmth in the countenance."
" Unusual vivacity in the eyen and smiles upon the coimienance are
vrcompanied by joyful accl.imalions, ciappin;^ of hands, and va-
rious other lively gestures. Where tiiu mind is strongly agitated

IMMEDUTE EMOTIONS.

125

■nd under no reetraint from a sense of decorum or Bolicttude for
character, loud lauahter, jumping, dancing, and tlie most wild aod
exlravagaot gestures indicate the frolick somen ess of the heart."
(Cogan.) Darwin (c. iii.) quoteB a case reported by Crichtjjn Browne;
" A young man of etrongly nervous temperament, on hearing hy a
telegram that a fortune hail been bequeathed biin, first beoame pale,
then exhilarated, but soon in the highedl spirits, but flashed and
very restless. He then took a walk wilh a friend for the sake of
tranquillizing himself, but returned staggering in his gait, uproar-
iously laughing, yet irritable in temper, incessantly talking, and
singing loudly in the public streets." ■' He then slept heavily, and
on awaking was well, except that he suffered from headache, nausea,
and prostration of strGngth,"

In sorrow or grief the symptoms are " violent agitations and rest*
less positions of the body, extension of the arms, clapping of the
hands, beating the breast, tearing the hair, loud sobs Hnd sighs."
" Sometimes a flood of tears relieves these pathognomonic symptoms.
Universal lassitude and a sense of debility succeed, with deep dejec-
tion of countenance, and languor in liiii eyes, whieh seem to look
around and solicit in vain for assistance and relief." (Cogan, c. ii.
class I.} " In fear or in grief the movements of the nostrils, the un-
controllable tremor of the lips, the convulsions of the neck and chest,
and the audible sobbing, prove that the iafluence of the mind ex-
tends over the organs of respiration, so that the difference is slight
between the action of the frame io a paroxysm of the passions and in
the agony of a drowning man." (Bel!, Essay viii.) The same author
describes the overwhelming influence of grief on woman, " The ob-
ject in her mind has absorbed all the powers of the frame, the body
is no more regarded, the spirits have left it, it reclines, and the limbs
gravitate, they are nerveless and relaxed, and she scarcely breathes;
but why comes at intervals the long-drawn sigh? why are the neck
and lliroat convulsed ? what causes the swelling and quivering of the
lips, and the deadly paleness of the face ? or why is the hand so pale
and earthly cold? and why, at intervals, as the agony returns, does
the convulsion spread over the frame like a paroxysm of suffoca-
tion?" (Essay iii.) Darwin (c. vii.) describes the grief of a young
woman from Nagpore, nursing her baby who was at the point of
death. His reporter " saw the eyebrows raised at the inner corners,
the eyelids drooping, the forehead wrinkled in the middle, the mouth
slightly open, with the comers nmch depressed. He then came from
bdiind & screen of plants and spoke to the poor woman, who started,

126 EJIOTIOSS AS DIRECTED TO AXIMATE OBJECTS.

burst into a bittur flood of leara, and besoujjLt liiin to cure her baby."
The eanie aullior ttlls (c. vii.) that when Ihe suffering is aomewhat
mitigated, yet prolonged, they no longer wish for action, but remain
motionleBB and paisive, or may oucaBioaally rock themselves to and
fro. The ciri:ulaLioD htcomes languid, the fa<:e pale, the mnsulea
tloucid, the eyelids droop, the head hangs oa the contracted chest,
the lips, cheeks, and lower jaw all sink downward from their own
wei;>ht. Hence all the features are lengthened, and the face of a
person who bears bad aewg Lb said to fall."

As weeping is an especial expression of grief, this nay be the
proper pi ai.« for the physiological account of It. "The lachrymal
glands are the first to be affected; then the eyelids, and finally the
whole converging musc-les of the cheeks," The lipa are drawn aside
from their being forcibly retracted by the superior influence of tlieir
antagooiat muscles, and the angle of the mouth (triangidark oris) ia
depressed. "The cheeks are thus drawn between two adverse pow-
ers: the muscles which surround the eyeUds, and that which de-
pi'eeses the lower lip." "The diaphragm is spasmodically and
irregularly affected, tlie chest and throat are influenced, the breath-
ing is cut by sobbing, and the expiration is slow, with a. melancholy
note. In the violence of weeping, aci;ontpiinied with lamentation,
the face is flushed, or rather suffused by stagnant blood, and the
■e distended." (Bell, Essay vi.) The mus-
strongly contracted during screaming, loud

veins of the forehead a
cles round the eyes a
laughter, and analogo

Content and Discontent, or, to use phrases oE mucli the
same meaning, /Satisfaction and Dissatisfaction. The
prevailing appetences have had enough of gratification to
soothe them, but not, it may be, to excite them. A
great portion of a henlthy and happy man's life may be
spent in this slate, neither much exalted nor much de-
pressed. On the other hand, there may be dissatisfac-
tion, general or occasional, arising from affections being
disturbed in a small way more or less frequently, by an-
noyances of various kinds, by ill health, by the anxieties
of business, domestic differences, or the rivalries of rank.
It ia apt to manifest itself in a discontent painted on the

lUUEDlATE EU0T10N3.

127

countenance, in a depression of the bodily frame, or in
a Iiabitual restleBSDess or occasional irritation of manner.
The feeling ia apt to settle down into a state of Good or
Bad Humor.

Gladness and Depression. When these are prolonged
and become continuous, they constitute Cheerfulness and
Dejection. These are merely deeper manifestations of
those last considered. The appetences are stronger, or
they are steadily or more fully gratified. The one feel-
ing may be that o£ a man who has a happy home, or a
pleasant social circle, who likes his work, and whose busi-
ness is prospering. The counterpart may be the temper
of one who is in ill health, who has domestic unhappi-
ness, who baa quarreled with the circle in which he
moves, whose business does not suit his taste, or is coa-
tinually going wrong. It should be noticed that feelings
belonging to other divisions are apt to mingle with those
under consideration, such as pride, regrets as to the past,
hopes and fears as to the future. These feelings, ac-
cording as they dwell on the good or the evil, are often
called Good and Bad iSpirits, and may promote or injure
the health.

Rapture and Melancholy, These are the highest forms
of joy and the lowest forms of sorrow. Tiiey arise when
the good and evil are supposed to be very great, and touch
the deepest affections of our nature. There ia the ecstacy
of the lover when his or her love is reciprocated, of the
soldier when he has gained a decisive victory, of the sci-
entific investigator when the long looked-for discovery
bursts upon his view, of the saint when he has the beatific
vision. There is the prostration of spirit which sioka
man and woman, when every effort to secure their favor-
ite ends has failed. Old men are specially apt to feel in
this way when they lose the reputation, the honor, the

128 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

fortune which they had pasaed a life-time in earning, and
fee! that they cannot start anew. We hare atrikiug in-
Btiincea in the poet Beattie and in Edmund Burke, when
they lost promising sons on whom their hopes were cen-
tered, and could never be miide to Hft up their heads
after. The cloud has come duwn upon the mountain top,
and deaeenda lower and lower, til] at last all is wrapt
in impenetrable gloom ; and in this, the winter season,
which has come upon them, there ia no hope of its riaing.
They now give themselves over to melancholy, " indulge
in melancholy," as the expression is, finding that it is
easier for them to do so than make the exertion to be
rid of it, which they feel to be hopeleas and useless.
(_Supra, p. 75.)

" From his observations oo melancholic patients, Mr. Hicol con-
cluilea that llie inner ends of the eyebrows are almost always more
or less raised, with the wrinkles on the fon'hi'ad more or less [jluiuly
tnarted. In the case of one joung woman, these wrinkles were ob-
served to be in constant sligbt play or movement. In some cases
the corners of the mouth are depressed, bnt often only in a slight
degree." "The eyelids generally droop, nnd the skin near their
outi^r corners and beneath tbem is wrinkled. The naso-labial fold,
nhicb ruDs from the wings of the nostrils to the corners of the mouth,
and nhieh is so conspicuous in blubbering children, is often plainly
marked in these patients." (Darwin, c. vii.) " Melancholy mani-
fests itself by dejection of spirits, debility of mind and body, obsti-
nate and insuperable love of solitude, universal apathy, and a coo-
firmed listleaeness, which emaciate tlie corporeal system, and, not
unfrequently, trouble the brain. (Cogan, c. ii.)

Peidb and self-humiliation. In the former, we
form and cherish and entertain a high and self-satisfied
opinion of ourselvea, of our abilitiea, of our conduct, or
of certain qualities supposed to be possessed by us, or of
certain acta we have done. In tlie latter, we are not
satiafied with ourselves, we do not believe we have quali-

IMMEDIATE EMOTIONS.

129

fications for certain offices, and we depreciate what we
have done. The one atate, when it is self-righteous, may
become a sin offensive to God and Self-Conceit denounced
by man ; the other, if it is yielded to, and not counter-
acted by a sense of duty, may become a Poorness of Spirit
which prevents ns from engaging in anything which re-
qnires counige and perseverance. The one, if we dwell
only on the good qualities we possess, may become Self-
Respeet to keep us from what is mean and unworthy ;
the other, when it leads us to take a lowly attitude be-
fore God and our fellow-men, may become the grace of
Sitmility,

"A proml man exhibita his Benee of Buperiority over others by
tiolding his head and boily i^rect. He is haughty (haul) or high,
(ind ualccR hiiDSulf appear as large ae poaxible, fo that metaphorically
he is said to be swollen or puffeii up with pride. A peacot'lc, or tur-
key-cock stnittini; about with pafTed up fealhers, is souietimeB said
to be an embluin of pride. The arrogant mnn looks down on otberB
and with lowered eyelids hanily condescends lo see them ; or be may
show his coiiterapt by Blight movements about the nostrila or hps.
llente the muscle which everts the lower lip has been called the
mtiscvlus svperbus. It is added that the mouth is closed, ' from the
proud man feeling perfect self-confidence in himself.' " (Darwin,
c. xi.)

Vanity differs from pride, inasmnch as in it people im-
agine that they stand high in public esteem, and are led
to put themselves in positions in which they may dazzle
the eyes of their fellow-men. He who cherishes it !s
flattered by attention paid to him, by applause, perhaps
even by notoriety, and is mortified by neglect, by blame,
and abuse. Opposed is tho Shrinking from public gaze,
commonly from fear ot being found fault with.

ffaughtiness implies not only a high opinion of our-
Bplves but a sense of superiority to others, often shown in
mien and air. In Contempt we express by words or by

EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

■ that we havo a low opinion of othera. In I>is-
dain we indicate that they are inferior to us in such
qualities as worth, ability, and rank, and that we liava no
regard for them or no nae for them. In Scorn we declare
that they are unworthy of our notice. In Sneering we
notice them, but only to point to their low qualities. In
Di»gu9t we view them aa we would an offensive object,
say a mal-odor. Opposed to all these is a spirit of Meele-
nesa, wliioli "seeketh not its own," and does not think of
its superiority to others.

"Contempt and disdain are often accompanied with it satirical
smile nliioh strongly instnuatee that basuness and meanness are also
intermixed with large portions of folly." (Cogan, p. I. c. ii.) " Con-
trasted with joy is the testy, pettish, peevish countenanee bred of
melancholy ; aa of one who U incapable of receiving satisfaction from
whaiever source it may be offered; who cannot endure any man to
look steadily upon him, or even speak to him, or laugh, or jest, or
be familiar, or hem, or point, without thinking himself contemned,
insnlted, or neglected. The arching of the mouth, and peculiar form
of the wings of the nose, are produced by the conjoint action of the
triangular muscle which depresses the angles of the mouth and the
superhns, whose individual action protrudes the lower lip. The
very peevish turn given to the eyebrows, the acute upward inflection
of Ihtir inner extremities, and the meeting of the perpendicular and
transverse furrows in (he middle of the foreheail, are produced by the
opposed action of part of the frontal muscle and of the corrugalor."
(Bell, Rpsay vii.) " The lips are retracted and the grinning teeth
exposed. Tlie upper lip is retracted in such a manner that the ca-
nine tooth on one side of the face alone is shown ; the face itself
being generally a little upturned and half averted from the person
causing offenpe." '■ The expression of a half-playful sneer gradu-
ates into one of great ferocity when, together with a heavily frown-
ing brow and fierce eye, the canine tooth is exposed." (Darwin, c.
X.) In sulkiness, as seen for instance in children, there is a protru-
sion or pouting of the lips. (e. v.) " The most common method of
expressing contempt is by movements about the nose or round the
mouth ; but the hitter movements, when strongly pronounced, indicate
disgust. The nose may be slightly turned up, which apparently fol-

IMMEDIATE EMOTIONS.

131

Iowa from the turning up of lie npper lip ; or tlie movcmont may be
3blirQvint«d into the mere Trrinkling of the nose. The nose ia often
sliglitly contrHctbd go as partly to close llie paasagG, and h commonly
antompanied by a. alight snort or expiration. All ihese at-tlons are
the eairie witli those wa employ wlien we perceive an offensive oiior.
We aeein thus to say to tlie despised person that he smells ofTen-
sively ; in near!)' Ihe fame manner as we express to hira by halt
closing our eyelids or turning away our faces, that he ia not worth
looking at." (c. xi.)

Submission, Resignation, Patience. Under these
emotions we know and feel that we are exposed to evil
imposed by circumstiiiices, or by the intention of an agent.
We might be tempted to rebellion and to fighting, and
the issue would be irritation, as when the rock opposes
the waves. But we choose to submit to the inevitable,
or we resign ourselves to what is our lot. We may rise
to a far higher state, — to the grace of patience which
submits implicitly to the will of God and believes that
all is for good.

Resistance, Repining, Peevishness, SuIMness, Disgust.
We oppose and resent the evil to which we are exposed,
or we habitually dwell on the evils of our lot; we throw
the blame on our position or on otir fellow-men, and com-
plain of fortune, of fate, or of God. Often the sense of
injury done is allowed to sink into the heart, breeding
discontent and issuing in murmuring or in disobliging

acts indicating the peevish temper within.
to sulkineas, and retreat, as into a cave, fro
men as unworthy of their confidence and r
In the look and mien of resignation there ia a :
impulses which woidd lead to rebellion and retaliati
and revenge; and this givea a suppressed and a au
possibly the hands lyini; over tlie body and the eyes ci

Good and Bad Humor. These are habitual states.
They may depend very rnnch on the bodily tempern-

Some yield
1 their fellow-

idued loo![, with
It downward.

132 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

ment. fiood humor often proceeds eimply from good
health, favored, it iiiiiy be, by prosperity. Quite aa fre-
quently, however, it is produced by mental appetences
cherished from day to day. In hII CDses it consists in a
Sow of grateful feelings running towards what is pleas-
ing and viewing all things on the sunny side. In the
opposite humor all things are clothed, as it were, in the
dress of mourning. Possibly under the influence of a
disordered stomach, or a diseHsed frame, or cherished ill-
temper, the mind flits from one ungrateful topic towards
another: in the past remeuibering only misfortunes or ill
nsage; in the present thinking only of deprivations, and
in the future picturing only woes. It may become a
Sournegg of Teviper painted visibly on the countenance,
and exhibited in the manner, and rejecting all kind pro-
posals, even those of genuine love.

" A man in high ppirita, though he may not actually smile, com-
monly exhibits some tendency to the retractions of the corners of his
moiitli. From the exeitement of pleasure the circulation tiecomes
more ra[iiil, tbo eyes are bright, and the color of the facti riaea. The
brain, buing ?timti1atei] by the increased flow of blood, ruacta on the
mentii! powers ; Uvuly ideas pass still more rapidly through the mind,
anil the affectiona are warmed. I heard a child a little under four
years, when asked what waa meant by being in ^od spirits, answer
' it ia latighinjj;, talking, and kisBing.' " (Darwin, c. viiL)

Already some of these feelings relate to supposed good
or evil to others as well as ourselves. We may now look
exclusively to the emotions bearing on othera.

Pity is produced by the idea of a person subjected to
pain or to any form of evil. When it is continuous it is
compassion towards those who suffer, and it may be
those that sin. Opposed is Hardnegg of Heart, which is
insensible to the wail of misery, and steels itself against
the claims of poverty iind suffi:rtng.

IMJIEDIATE EMOTIONS. 133

St/mpatht/, with Jbt/s or Sorrows. This is a fine ele-
ment of human character. It originates in the affection
which we naturally have towards othera. All this, how-
ever, may be a mere surface sensibility, as fleeting aa the
play of features on the countenance, or aa the chasing of
sunshine and shadow on the mountain aides, very pleas-
ant, but evanescent, — as one observed of a sensitive
person ever in smiles and tears, that he was a man of
tenderness of nerve rather than of heart. Such persons
feel for us, but they do not stand by us ; they do not help
us. In genuine feeling sympathy is rooted and grounded
in love, and is a branch of love, and a grace of a high
order. We are commanded to "rejoice with them that
do rejoice and weep with them that weep."

In it our heart beats responsive to the hearts of others.
We enter into their feelings; we identify ourselves with
them. Our very countenance is apt to take the expres-
sion of tlie feeling into which we enter. When we see
others laugh we are apt to laugh also. We weep with
those that weep. We are disposed to run with those
that run. We flee with those that flee. When others

s striking a blow we are inclined to lift our arm as if to
do the same. It is usually said that all this arises from
the principle of imitation. The correct account rather
is, that we place ourselves in the position of others, and
are thus led to act as they act.

Env^. Here we have an idea of others being supe-
ior to us, and instead of rejoicing in it we feel as if we
were thereby lowered and injured, and are tempted to
lower and injure them. Envy is one prompting cause of
our depreciation of others, of slander, and of the efforts
we make to oppose and keep down our rivals.

TVwst or Covfidenpe in a fellow-creature, or Suspicion.
We look on an individmi! as to be relied on or not to be

134 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

relied on, and a feeling of trust or mistrust arises. This
feeling is apt to become especially strong when we view
him as having a relation to ub ; and as likely to Btand
by us in an emergency, or to abandon us and turn
against us. Some are confiding to the extent of weak-
ness, and so are likely to be taken in ; others are un-
reasonably and cruelly auspicious, and construe every
appearance as a proof of guilt. These extremes are
manifestations of a temper inclined to look on mankind
with kindly or with unkindly feelings, but not stopping
to weigh evidence.
SuBpicion is described in the " Faery Qaeea : " —
" Foul, ill-fttvored, and grim.
Under hia eyebrows looking siill askance.
And ever aa Disaemblaiice laagbed on him
Be loweF'd on her with diLagtioaa eje glnnce,

Hia rollings eyes did nerer rest in place,
Bnt wnlked each where, foe feac of hid mischance
Hoiding a lattice Htili before hia fHcc,
Though he still did peep as forward he did pace."
Suspicion, while keeping the body unmoved to avoid notice, m^
be tornin;; tha eye in a peciring manoer.

Rejoicing m or Jealousy of the Buccesa of othere.
We have been brought into a relation more or less close
with certain of our fellow-men. We are led in conse-
quence of the social instinct to feel an ijiterest in them
and in their prosperity ; we feel as if their success is
our success ; we are almost as much delighted with it as
they are, and we are prompted to further it from inter-
ested or disinterested motives. Or, a person has come
between us and those whom we love, or those on whom
we suppose that we have some claim, or he is Iiinder-
ing our favorite ends or schemes, and we become jealous
of him. When hia name is mentioned, when we meet

IMMEDIATE EMOTIONS.

136

him or we are led to think of him, especially wben we
are brought into collision with him, painful aaaociations
come up, and we wish tha,t lie may be disappointed.
This disposition shows itself among the lower animals.
The pet di^ indicates its dislike of any other creature —
dog or cat or child — that threatens to usurp its place.
That girl is very much offended when any other child,
gets more attention than she does from nurse or mother.
Jealousies arise in the rivalries of school, and appear in
every future stage of life, and are seen in the competi-
tions of trade, of dress, of social dignity, of popularity,
of honor and reputation. It is more common in certain
walks of Ufe than in othei's, and is apt to come out to
notice in all those professions in which the members
come in collision with each other: as, for instance,
among doctors, who have to consult about delicate
cases; among actors and actresses, who have to live od
popular applause, which is apt to be capricious; among
authors, who have to be sustained by public opinion ;
and even among popular preachers, who feel that they
have a reputation to keep up, and are not awed by the
responsibility of their office. Women are more disposed
to feel it than men, because of their numerous small
attachments, and because there is not as much oppor-
tunity of having their angles and points rubbed off and
smoothed by intercourse with the world. It has to be
added that when men are frustrated in a ruling paaaion
they are apt to keep up the bitterness longer and ex-
press it more loudly than the opposite sex.

Jealousy is more specially felt when there has been an
Affection of some kind between the parties. It is most
apt to be felt by lovers, and may disturb the intercourse
of husband and wife. Lfivers are so dependent on the
Bmile of the lovtid one that they feel as if left in darkness

136 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANTMATE OBJECTS.

when the aunahine is withdrawn, and they attribute the
withdrawal to a rival coming between. Husband and
wife feel that they have a right to the pledged affection
of one to the other, and are indignant at the one who haa
enticed it away and grieved with the one who has un-
lawfully bartered it.

" In jealousy the eyelid ia fully lifted and the eyehrowa strongly
knit, BO ihat the eyelid almost entirely dLSiippcarB and the eyeball
glares from under the bD!<hy eyebrow. There ia a general tension
on the rauselea which conc^entmte round the mouth ; and the lips
are drawn so as to show the teeth with an expreaaioa of cruelty,
depending in a grent measure, perhaps, on the turn of the noatnis
which aecompanieg the drawing ot tho lipa." (Cogan.) " In jeal-
ousy the eyebrows are knit, and the eyelid so fully lifted as almost
to disappear, while the eyeball glarea from under the bushy eye-
brow. There is a general tension of the museles which concenCrs
round the mouth and the lipa, and show the teeth with a fierce
expreasioD. This depends partly on the turn of the nostril which
accompanies the retraction of the lips." (Bell, Essay vii.)

SECTION ni.

PROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS.

The emotions looking to the future are the main stim-
ulants of activity. As we fix our eyes on the past we
may be kept from going forward; we maybe satisfied,
and so cease to exert ourselves, or so dissatisfied as to
give ourseWea np to unbelief or despair. The present
may induce us to linger in it; the present good may sat-
isfy us or the present evil may bow us down to the earth.
In the emotions now under consideration we look on the
land before ns, and are allured to go on to possess it.
" We are saved by hope." Without it we would lie
down and perish ; with it we rise as Mungo Park did,
when, being prostrated and ready to die, his eyes fell on
the " blue-bell" of Scotland, and he arose with the pur

PROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS. 137

pOBB of yet seeing his native land. It is a common saying
that more of human happiness may proceed from hope
than realization ; the enjoyment is in the hunt rather
than in the game caught. It ia fortunate, it ia providen-
tial that it ia so. Men are not expected, after having
gained some petty end, to retire from the heat of the
day and give themselves over to indolence. To those
who would linger too long in the shade God may send a
gadfly to rouse them from their torpor and send them
forth to new activities.

The prospective emotions, like all the others, may be
divided into those that look to the appetible and those
that look to the inappetible, in other words into the
grateful and ungrateful. But there is an important claaa
which lies in an intermediate region.

Sdrprisb, Astonishment. An event occurs very s'ud-
denly or contrary to the usual course of things, or the
expectations which we were led to entertain. It is of
such a character that it must have momentous conse-
quences. But we know not at first whether it is to be
for good or for evil. It thus raises feeliiig ; for the mind
dwells on the possible or probable evil, and becomes ex-
cited, perhaps restless, hoping or fearing, or flitting from
the one to the other. This may continue for a time, till
we see what the nature of the event is to be, what are ita
causes and its consequences ; and then the miracle comes
to be regarded as a natural occurrence. The feeling ia
apt to be strongest among the joung who more frequent-
ly meet with unexpected occurrences and are more un-
certain about the issues. As they advance in life they
are less liable to meet with incidents out of the course
of their ordinary experience, and better able to calculate
the results, Tiie young run to every blazing fire ex-
pectiiig plvaaiire which the old know is not likely to fol-

138 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ASIJIATK OBJECTS.

low. Tlie consequence is that the aged are apt to cease
to fee] an interest in what is passing ; because their ex-
perience does not justify them in expecting from it much
good or much evil.

" The first impulse of surprise deprives the Bnbjeot of the power
uf utterance, and the fii-st exertion of tbii retumicig power cousists
in louil exclamations adapted both to the nature of the emotioa it-
M'lf and to its L'oDfu.siun aud wonder io relation to the object."
"The eyes are soiuetimes fastened upon the author or narrator uf
something wonderful; sometimes tbej are directed upwards Io be
more detached from every surrounding object which might distract
the attention; eometiines tkey roll about as if they were in search
of an object that may he equal to the explanaiioti, and the half-
opened mouth seems eager to receive the desired information,"
(Cogan c. ii.) " The eyes and mouth being widely open is an ex-
pression universally recognized as one of surprise or astonishment.
'ilius, Shakespeare says: 'I saw a smith stand with open mouth
awalloning a tailor's news.' And again, ' They st^emed almost with
staring on one another to tear the cases of iheir eyes; there was
sjieech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they
looked as they had heard of a world destroyed.' " " That tljo eye-
brows are raised by an innate or instinctive impulse may be inferred
from the fact that Laura Briilgman invariably acts thus when as-
tonished, as I have been assured by the lady who has lately had
charge of her. As surprise is excited by something unexpected or
unknown, vre naturally desire, when startled, to perceiri! the cause
as quickly as posnible ; and we consequently open our eyes fully ;
so that the field of vision may be increased and the eyeballs moved
easily in any direction. But this hardly accounts for the eyebrows
being so gieatly raised as is the case, and for the wild staring of
the open eyes. The explanation of this lies, 1 believe, in the ini-
[Mjssibility of opening the eyes with great rapidity by merely rais-
ing the upper lids. To effect this the eyebrows mjst be lifted en-
ergetically. Any one who will try to open his eyes as quickly
ait [lossible before a mirror will fini) that he acts thus; and the en-
ergetic lifting up ot the eyebrows opens the eyes so widely that
they stare the while, being exposed all round the iris. Moreover,
the elevation of the eyebrows is an advantage in looking upwards;
fur as long as they are lowered they impede our vision in this di-

PROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS.

139

rection.

The habit of raising the eyebrows having o
der Ui see as quidtly as possible all arouad ub, the
luld follow from ihe foroe of association whenever as-
tonishnient was fslt from any cause, even from a sudden sound or
idea." " The cause of the mouth being opened when astoniahment
is fult is a mueh more complex affair and several causes apparently
concur in leading to this movement." " We can breathe much more
quiclly tbroui^h the open mouth than through the nostrils, therefore
whi^n we wish to listen intently to any sound we either stop breath-
ing or breathe as quietly as possible by opening our mouths, at
tlie same time keeping our bodies motionless." When the atten-
tion is directed forcibly to an object, the organs of the body not en-
gaged are neglected, and so ia astonishment many of the muscles
become relaxed, and hence the open dropping of the jaw and open
mouth of a man stupeliell with amazement. Another cause oper-
alea. " We can draw a full and deep inspiration much more easily
through the widely open mouth than through the nostrils. Now
when we start at any sudden sound or sight, almost all the muscles
of the body are involuntarily and momentarily thrown into strong
BCtlon for the sake of guarding ourselves against or jumping away
from the danger which we habitually associate with anything un-
expected. But we always unconsciously prepare ourselves for any
great exertion by first taking a deep and full inspiration, and we
consequently open our mouths." " Thus several causes concur to-
wards this same, whether surprise, astonishinent, or amazement is
felt." (Darwin, c. ^ii,)

Admiration, Wonder, and Veneration. We are struck
witli BOitiething auppoaed to be great in power, in intel-
lect, or in goodness. We anticipate important effects to
follow ; as we do so corresponding feelings rise and surge
and swell. When the objects or consequences are good,
admiration and wonder may become moral in their nat-
ure. They may become a veneration for all that is ex-
cellent towards the aged, the ancient, the grand. The nil
admirari school may aeeni very wise, and may boast that
they are never deceived, but as they have no beau ideal
they never accomplish anything truly great. Wonder

140 EMOTIONS AS DIEECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

opens our eyes and fixes them on something high to
which it would elevate us. It is an essential element in
all truly exalted character, and leads on to Reverence and
Awe. It enters largely into the Adoration and worship
which we pay to God.

" In admiration the, fiiculty of light is enjoyed to the iitmoaC and
bU elee is forgotten. The brow is expanded sod nnruffled, the eje-
brows gently rjiised, tlie eye lifted so as to expose the colored sur-
tate of thi! eye, while the lower part of the face is relaxed in a gentle
Bmile. The nioutli is open, the jaw a little fallen, and by the relaxa-
tion of the lower lip we must perceive the edge uf the lower teeth
and tongue. The posture of the body is nio.st expressive when it
seems arrested in some familiar action," (Bell, Esaay vii.) " Wten
subject to particular influences the natural position of the eyeball is
to be directi'd upward. In sltiep, languor, and depression, or when
affected witb strong emotions, the eyes naturally and insensibly
roll upwards. The ac lion la not a voluntary one; it is irresistible.
Hence in reverence, in devotion, in agony of mind, in all sentiments
of pity, io bodily [win with fear of death, the eyes assume that posi-
tioD." " We thus see that when wr»pt in devotional feelings, and
when outward impressions ai'e unheederl, the eyes are raised by an
action neither taught nor acquired. It is by this instioclive motion
we are led ta bow with humility, to look upward in prayer, and to re-
gwd the visible heavens aa the seat of God." (Bell, Essay iv.)

The Prospective Emotions proper are all of the nature
of —

Hope and Feae, The former of these arises from the
contemplation of good, the latter from the apprehension
of evil as about to come. The feeling varies with the
nature and extent of the good or evil conceived, and of
tlie probability of its coming.

The tendency of hope is to enliven, to cheer, to stimu-
late action. But it is also true that ill-grounded hopes,
fostering in the first instance a false security, and so lead-

PROSPECTIVE EUOTIONS.

141

ing to disuppointmeiit, may make us despair of accotn-
pliahing any good end. '■ Hope deferred maketh the
heart sick." The tendency and the final cause of fear is
to hold back and repress, when we might be tempted to
rush into danger. But some are so terror-stricken that
they are incapable of taking any action to ward o£E the
evil. It has to be added, tliat fear has sometimes called
fortli iind intensified dormant energies. There are occa-
sions when man acquires courage from despair. A man
fleeing for his life luia performed feats of ingenuity and
strength which he would not have attempted in calmer
hours. In all cases there should be judgment and princi-
ple exercised in seeing that we hope for proper objects,
that we be afraid only of what is evil, and are ready to
resist the evil when duty calls.

IHopu eeema to give a life and a spriog to our whole nervous b^b-
tem so far as it is influenced by Uie graj' matter of the brain. It is
especially eeen in the keen eye. It leails us to look foi'ward as if to
see, and lean forward as if to reach, the object. We elevuCe the eye-
brow that the view may be clear. But " Fear produces an agony
and anxiety about the heart not lo be deecribeil; and it may t>e E^d
to paralyze the eoul in such a. manner aa to render it insensible to
everyiLing but its own misery. Inertness and torpor pervade the
whole system, united with a constriction of the integuments of the
body, and alxo a certain sense of being fettered, or of being rendered
incapable of motion. The eyes are pallid, wild, and sunk in their
rackets; the countenance is contracted and wan, the hair stands
erect, or at least this Ecnsation is escited, which every child experi-
I'nces so often as he is terrified by stories of ghosts, witches, ete. The
howels are strongly affected, tile heart palpitates, respiration labors,
the lips tremble, the tongne falters, the limbs are unable to obey the
will or support iLe frame. Dreadful shrieks denote the inward an-
guish. These are often succeeded by syncopes, which while they
manifest that the sufferings are greater than nature can sustain,
afford a lemporary relief." (Cogan c. ii. class I.) " Fear came
upon me and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then
spirit p.issed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up. It

142 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

Blow] Still, but I could not discern the form thereof; an image wa*
before mine eyea; there was silence and 1 heard a voice." (Job ir.
14-16.)

Anticipation, Expectation^ Assurance of Hope, are
fainter and stronger forms, growing on the idea of good,
as possiblv, probably, or certftinly coming. Sometimea it
is a feeble light, pleasing, but not moving, the aoul. Or,
it may become lively and exciting, a source of hiippineas,
and an incentive to activity. Or it may rise to a full
Kssunince in which it has all the stability of realization :
such is the hope of the return of the seasons or of a good
man's ful61Iment of promise ; such is hope in God, in his
Word and Providence. It should be noticed that the
practical result depends not only on the probability of
the good, but on the character of the appetence. The
hope which sways one person povrerfnlly may have no
charms to another. There are people in ecstacy at being
Invited to a fashionable party which has no attractions
whatever to others, who would rather have a day's fish-
ing or hunting. One man is buoyed up all his life with
the expectation of his reaching a high position of power
or fame ; another looks down on all this because he aims
at securing mental cultivation or spiritual excellence.
Hope has a purifying effect when properly directed ; it
purifies us even as the objects to which- it looks, say God
and heaven, are pure.

Apprehension, Dread, Terror, Horror, Despair. These
are different degrees of the same feeling, determined by
the greatness of the evil aud the probability of its reach-
ing us. The extent of the evil is estimated not by any
absolute standard, but by the strength of the appetence
which has been thwarted. To one man the loss of money
is scarcely felt to be a loss, for he has not set his affec-
tions on wealth ; to another it is like tearing out his heart.

PROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS.

143

To many the loss of a near relative stirs the soul to its
lowest depths; in others it only ruffles the surface, like
a passing breeze. When the threatened storm is very
distant, or very doubtful, there is only a slight tremor,
enough to give a warning; but as it comes near and de-
scends with a hurricane power there are awful bowlings
Mnd yawning gulfs. When the evil is steadily pressing
on us like death, it is dread. When it comes suddenly
upon us, say the news of a lost battle, it ia teiTor. When
Jill hope of being delivered from it ia gone, it is despair,
which is the darkness left when all the lights hiive been
extinguished, and the man feels that he is lost, and ia
tempted to give up exertion and lie down and perish.

" Terror cauees the blood suddenly to leave the extreme parti
of the frame ; the countenance becomes livid, the brain exeited,
ihe large arteries distended; the heart Bwella, the eyas Htart, the
niuscles beixime riirid or convulsed, aod faiotness, or perbups sud-
den death, ensues." (Moore, part III.) In terror the man atanda
with eyee intently fixed on the object of bis fears, the eyebrows ele-
vated to the utmost, and the e3'e largely uncovered ; or with beniCaC-
iug and bewildered stupa, hii eyes are rapidly and wildly in search
uE somelliing. "Observe him farther: There is a spasm on his
breast; he cannot breathe freely; the chest is elevated; the nmsdes
of his neck and shoulders are in action ; his breathing b short nod
nipid; there is a gasping and convulsive motion oF hia lipx, a tremor
on his hollow ciieek, a gulping and catching of his throat ; his heart
ix knocking at his ribs, while yet his lipa and cheeks are ashy pale."
'* The heart heats quickly and violently, so that it palpitates or
knocks again.^t the ribs : but it is very doubtful wbether it tien
ivorks more efficiently than usual, so as to send a greater supply of
blood to all parts of the body ; for the skin instantly becomes pale,
HS during incipient faintness. The paleness of the surface, however,
is probably, in large part or exclusively, due to the vaso-motor centre
lieing afTectcd in such a manner as to cause the contraction of the
Mnall arteries of the skin. That the skin is much aSecteii under
ibe senEie of great fear, we see in the marvelous aod inexplicubla
manner in wliich perspiration immediately exudes from it. Thii

144 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANUIATE OBJECTS.

exu<)atioD is nil the mare remarkable as the eurface is then cold,
and hence the term a ' cold nweat; ' whereae the sudoiiHc glands are
properly excited iuto ai^tion when the surfaue ia heat«d. The hairB
also on the skin stand erect, and the superficial muscles shiver. In
connection with the disturbed action of the heart, the breathing it
hurried, ilie salivary glands act iiupfrfeetlj', the mouth become*
dry, and is often opened and shut. I have also noticed that under
slight fear Ibere is a strong tendency to yawn. One of the best
marked symptoms is the trembling of all the muscles of the body;
and iLii is often first seen in the lips. From this cause, and from
the dryness of the mouth, the voice becomes husky or iodistioct, or
may altogether fail. Obalupui, slelerunli/ue covub el vox Javcibns
hauait," There are other symptoms: " The pupils are said to ha
enormously dilated, or may be thrown into convulsive movements.
The hands are alternately clinched and opened, often with a twitch-
ing movement. The arniB may be protruded as if to avert some
dreadful danger, or may be thrown wilJIy over the head," (Dar-

" Horror differs from both fear and d
allied to the last than to the Srst. Il
with the sufferings of others than engac
struck with horror even at the spectacle of a
is peculiarly excited by the real danger or pain of another. We see
a child in the hazard of being crushed by an enormous weight, with
sensalioiis of extreme horror. Horror is full of energy; the body
is in the utmost tension, not unnerved by fear. The flesh creeps,
and a sensation of cold seems to chill the blood ; the term is appli-
cable of ' damp horror.' " (Bell, Essay vii.)

While terror is in some measure
ninil occupied with an uncertainty
of danger, despair is tlie total wreck of hope, the terrible assurance
of ruin having closed around beyond all power of escape. The ex-
pression of despair must vary with the nature of the distress of which
it is the acme. In certain circumstances it will assume a bewildered,
distracted ^r, as if madness were likely to afford the only relief
from the mental agony. Sometimes there iS at once a wildness in
the looks, and total relaxatiou as if falling into insensibility, or tliere
is upon the countenance of the desperate man a horrid gloom ; the
eye is fixed, yet he neither sees nor hears augh(, nor is sensible of
what surrounds him; the features are shrunk and pale and livid,
and convulsions and trumors affect the muscles of (he face." (Bell,
Essay vii.)

:, although more nearly
more full of sympathy
vithour own. We are
artificial distress; but it

" Despair is a mingled
the balancing and di

PROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS.

145

vesg is a feeling arising from a sensitive apprehen-
sion as to the opinion tliiit may be formed of oa by
others. It leads us to retire into the shade and hide
ourselves from the public gaze ; like Viola,
" Who nerer told her Io<e ;
But let CDDcealment, like a worm in the bnd.
Feed on her damaiik clwek."

Shame is a modification of the same feeling in which
we shrink from exposing our person, or it may be our
guilt, for fear of reproach. Modesty and Impiidence be-
long to the same class. In the former we shrink from
displaying our excellences, or, it may be, from asserting
our rights. It is not so much an emotion as a virtue. In
Impudence we pay no regard to propriety and we defy
the opinion of others.

" Somo pereona flush up at any eudden and disagreeable recollec

mONt probable, tlioi
closely direi^ted to ;

1 Blushing,

The theory wLich appears ti
l^'b it may at first seem rash, is that attenlion
ny part of the body tends to interfere with the
ordinary and tonic eonlraction of the small arteries of that part.
These vesai^ls, io i^ontequtnue, become at such times more or less
relimed, and are constantly filled n'itli arterial blood. Tliia ten-
dency will have been much strengthened if frequent attention ha«
been paid during many generations to the eame part, owing to
nerve force readily flowing along accustomed channels, and by the
power of inheritance. Whenever we believe that others are depre-
ciating or even considering our personal appearance our attention
is vividly du-ected to the outer and visible parts of one bodies ; and
of all such parts we are nio^t Kensitive about our faces, as no doubt
ha.i been the case during many past generations," (Darwin, c. xiii.)
Anxiety. It presupposes an object in which we are
interested and a threatened obstacle in the way of the
attainment of it. The interest in it keeps the eye fixed
on the object, and fears spring up as we discover hin-
drances standing, like the angel seen by the prophet's ass
with the drawn sword, in the way. When tlie impell-
to

146 EMOTIONS AS DIRECTED TO ANIMATE OBJECTS.

iiig passion ia a tempest, the soul may be in an agitated
state, like a ship in a storm, now dizzy and trembling
on the ridge oE the wave, and forthwith down in the
deptha. How tremulous the hand of the youth as he
presents a letter to a patron who has the means of be-
friending him, and of a mother presenting a petition for
the reprieve of her son. How fluttered is the lover who
has sent off a proposal to a loved one and is waiting for
an answer. What riaiuga and fallings, what elevations
and depreaaions, what ebbs and flows. How terrible the
agony of the mother as she watches by the sick-bfd of
her son on the night of the crisis of the fever. Some
have felt the anxiety so keenly that they have almost
wished that the decision were against them, rather than
that they should be thus tossed. In such cases the hopes
only make the fears more horrific, as the lightnings re-
veal the density of the surrounding darkness.

Disappointment, The phrase may be used in a more
general or a more specific sense. It may be applied to
every case in which an appetence has been frustrated,
that is, has not gained its object. I have been using
it in this sense, in this treatise, in strict conformity, I
believe, with the usage of our tongue. But it ia em-
ployed in this place in a more specific sense, as the
counterpart of expectation. A good has been hoped for
and has not come. Disappointment as an emotion arises
when the expected blessing is not realized. This feel-
ing is strong in proportion to the previously entertained
hope. What a darkness when a light to which we have
long been looking is quenched: say when a lover finds
that the person beloved has been amusing herself with
him, or has jilted him ; or when a man, after toiling for
years or a life-time, discovers that his life plan has been
wrecked and dashed helplessly in pieces, A peculiar bit-

PROSPECTIVE EMOTIONS. 147

terness is engendered when there has been a betrayal of
ns by those whom we loved and trusted, or to whom we
committed our confidence and our money. On the other
side, what a relief when a threatening cloud long hang-
ing over us is dispelled, and we find ourselves in light
and comfort, with friends whom we mistrusted standing
by us.

A peculiarity is imparted to these prospective feelings
when our hopes and fears have arisen from the acts of
others. There is the Sope of Approbation of smiles and
favors from friends to whom, in consequence, we become
attached. There is the fear of enmity from those who
are prejudiced against us, or of revenge on the part of
those whom we have offended. There is Horror at atro-
cious conduct, as, for example, when we hear of an un-
natural son striking or killing a father.

CHAPTER m.

EMOTIONS CALLED FORTH BY INAITIMATB OBJECTS.
THE ESTHETIC.

SECTION I.

fBTHETICAL THEORIES.

This introduces us to the feelings called forth by those
objects wbich are called Beautiful, Picturesque, Ludicrous,
and Sublime. Shaftesbury and Hutcbeson reckoned these
as constituting Senses, such as the sense of Beauty, the
Sense of the Ludicrous. The French writers spoke of
them as G6ut, which English and Scotch writers trans-
lated Taste, and discussed the nature and pleasures of
Taste ; and the phrase is still habitually employed in our
language — as when we talfc of persona of taste. Of a
later date, following Kant and the Germans, the feel-
ings to which I refer have been called Eesthetic, and the
science which treats of the corresponding objects, aesthet-
ics. None of these phrases is unexceptional. They all
seem to refer to bodily senses, emotions which certainly
proceed from a higher department of ournature. Ruskin
has proposed to call the mental power from which they
proceed the Theoretical, from Qtaipia, vision, but there are
many and obvious objections against turning to this use
a phrase wbich had been otherwise applied, and Mr.
Raskin's recommendation has not been followed. The
phrase Eeathetica may be employed till another and a
befck^r be devised and generally accepted. I am inclined

^STHETICAL THEORIES.

149

to tbiiik tbat the best term to denote the science would
be Kalology, that is, the science of the to KoKor, or the
Beiuitiful.

The opinions which have been entertained by eminent
men as to the Beautiful may be represented as three in
number.

(1,) Tliere are those who hold that it consists of some
mental quality perceived bt/ the wind, as existing in ob-
jects. Whatever objects possess this quality are to be
reckoned as beautiful, those without it are to be held as
non-be;iutiful. This theory was started by the oldest
thinker who has speculated on this subject : I refer to
Plato, who may be regarded as the founder of the science
of ainthftics. According to him there had been an Idea
in or before the Divine Mind from all eternity ; which
idea is bo far impressed on objects on the earth and in
the heavens. So far as objects partake of this Divine
Idea they are beautiful ; and the mind of man, being

1 formed at first in the image of God, is capable of rising,
by means of philosophic contemplation, to a Pure Love
(trailed ever since Platonic Love), which discerns and
appreciates tjie beauty. This beauty consists essentially
in order opposed to disorder, in harmony and proportion.
It is not sensation nor utility ; it is mind, king of heaven
«nd earth, bringing forms, sounds, and colors under limi-
tation. He treats of the subject in the " Phsedrus," the
*' Banquet," the " Philebiis," and the " Greater Hippias."
lie makes Socrates say, " For the Celestial Aphrodite
herself, the goddess of all beauty, being well aware tliat
mere pleasure and all sorts of sensuous gratification have
no element of limit in themselves, introduced LAW and
Order, to which limitation necessarily belongs," He is
gi-eatly struck with the properties of certain mathemati-
cal figures. " When I talk of the beauty of forms, I do

150 EMOTIONS CALLED FORTH BY INANIMATE OBJECTS.

not undtTstand, as most people might, certain shapes of
living auimids, or of painted animals, but my argument
refera to lines, Bti-aigtt or curved generally, and to wbat-
ever figures, plain or solid, are made with a straight or
a curvud outline, ty rules and plumb-lines, or by com-
passes and the turner's latlie, — things quite familiar to
you. Now, with regard to all these things, I say that
they are beiiutiful, not relntively, as so many other things
are, but that by their very nature they are essentially
and eternally beautiful, and that they are accompanied by
certain peculiar pleasures which have no affinity whatso-
ever with the pleasurable affection produced by coraiion
in-itanta and stimulants. And of colors also, and the
pleasures connected with them, the same thing may be
predicated." He perceives a peculiar beauty in certain
triangles which have remarkable properties in themselves
or are capable of producing new figures by juxtaposi-
tion. He instances the right-angled isosceles triangle,
which has the two angles at the base, each equal to half
a right angle; the ratio, being of 2 to 1, always pre-
sents one unvarying type of great beauty.' With all the
Greeks the to koXov consisted in that on which order has
been imposed, as opposed to matter (uXvjJ, which is wast©
and formless.

Since the time of Plato this theory, which in a general
way we may call Platonic, has appeared and reappeared
in the speculations of profound thinkers. Aristtifcle views
the beautiful under various forms, but represents it in
his "Metaphysics" as being essentially order (tq^'cs), and
tliis, in that which is bounded (tu/Ho-fit'i'ov). The great
philosophic divine, Augustine, represents beauty as con-
sisting in order and design. Francis Hutcheson, who has
written much on this subject, maintains that it consists
' See On Dpiuti/, hy I'rofessoc Illaikie.

^STHETICAL THEORIES.

151

in unity with variety. Give us mere nnity or uniformity
and we have no beauty; but give us variety also, and
tliere is beauty in proportion to the variety. Give cs
vuriety merely, and there is no beauty ; but let there be
unity to combine the variety, and there is beauty in pro-
portion to the unity. The same theory has been adopted
and defended by M, Victor Cousin. High Platonic views
have been illustrated with great beauty by Dr. McVicar,
in various works on the Beautiful; and by Mr. Ruskin,
in his "Modem Painters," and his "Seven Lamps of
Architecture," works of extraordinary eloquence.

There is an elevation and a grandeur about these views
which recommends them to our higher nature. They
place beauty in certain noble qualities as perceived by
the mind in objects. I have no doubt they contain a
vast amount of truth. It may be doubted whether they
embriice the whole truth,

(2.) There are those who are seeking to show that
hcauty consists in certain objective qualities in the things
themselves. This theory is not inconsistent with the last
but appears in a somewhat different form. According to
the Platonic view, there is beauty only so far as the high
quality is perceived by the mind, say proportion, har-
mony, or unity with variety. According to the second
theory, the beauty is in the object itself, whether the
mind perceives it or not. Not a few in our day are striv-
ing to express the qualities of the beautiful in mathe-
matical formul^B, Mr. Hay of Edinburgh first traces a
correspondence between the vibrations which produce
sound and the vibrations which produce vision ; and then
shows " that the definite ratios and known proportions
which in the vibrations of a musical string produce har-
mony to the ear, if transferred to the eye, will produce
the feeling of a pleasing proportion in that sense ; spec-

152 EMOTIONS CALLED FORTH BY ISASIMATE OBJECTS.

iaily, that if musical strings whose length is in the ratio
of 1, i, |, J, produce by their vibrations fixed hiirmoniea
in the ear, tlie same relations, applied to yisual spaces,
will produce corresponding SBathetic pleasure to the eye."
(3.) There are thoie who maintain that beauty is pro-
duced by Ansoeiaiton of Ideas. The influence of associa-
tion engendciing feelings of the beautiful was pointed
nut clearly and judiciously by Francis Hutcheson, in his
works " On Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue " (1725)
and "On the Passions." The same line of remark was
followed by Beattie, the well known Scotch poet and
metaphysician. The author who has carried out these
views to the greatest (indeed to an extravagant) extent
is the Rev. Archibald Alison, in his " Essays on the
Nature and Principles of Taste." I shall endeavor to
give a summary of hia views. He says : " In the course
of this investigation I shall endeavor to show, first, that
there ia no single emotion into which these varied effects
can be resolved ; that, on the contrary, every simple emo-
tion, and therefore every object which is capable of pro-
ducing any simple emotion, may be the foundation of the
complex emotion of Beauty or Sublimity. But, in the
second place, that this complex emotion of Beauty or
Sublimity is never produced unless, beside the excitement
of some simple emotion, the imagination also ia excited,
and the exercise of the two faculties combined in the
general effect." To illustrate this, he says, let us look
upon a wide, extended plain, covered with waving grain,
whitening unto the harvest. We are not to suppose that
there is anything beautiful in this scene, considered in
itself ; or that it calls forth any separate feeling to be
regarded as a feeling of the beautiful. But the field
raises the idea of fertility and riches ; we think of the
animatfd bikings to be fed and sustained by the exuberant

PLACE OF SENSATION IN ESTHETICS.

153

grain, of the happinesa, plenty, and peace thereby accru-
ing, and the whole flow of feeling conatitntes the senti-
ment of the beautiful. We look upon a. time-worn tower ;
there ia nothing more beautiful in it than in any other
aggregation of stone aud lime, but our minds are carried
back to long past days and deeds of chivalry and prowess,
and the whole feeling constitutes a sense of the Vener-
able. , We gaze on a water-fall ; it is only a collection of
rock and water, but it raises a feeling of power which
branches out into varied ideas and feelings, constituting
our sentiment of the Sublime.

Now this theory does account for certain of the phe-
nomena, for certain of the accompaniments, specially the
prolonging of the sentiment, of the beautiful. But it does
not explain the whole facts, nor the main facts. It can
be shown that there are qualities, physical and mental,
which, of theniBelves, call forth a peculiar class of aesthetic
feelings.

In order to determine what truth there is in each of
these three leading theories, let ua look at the emotions
raised.

I am prepared to admit that many of our Eesthetic
emotions start from sensation. There is commonly, if
not always, a pleasant sentient feeling presupposed aud
existing throughout, as a condition of, that is, a concomi-
tant in, the agencies acting as the cause of our emotion
of beauty. But the peculiar assthetic sentiment is al-
ways something above and beyond mere sensibility. It
may be useful, in clearing up the subject, to look at the
preparations made by the various senses for the rise of
the idea and the feeling of beauty.

K coil

154 ^ESTHETICS.

Our muscular energies are employed, first, in work,
and secondly, where there ia not work sufficient to ex-
ercise them, in play. There ia often much excitement,
much pleasure, in various kinds of play, as in running,
leaping, gymnastics, fishing, and hunting ; but these
have nothing aesthetic in their nature. The organic
sensations and the lower senses, snch as taste and smell,
may give us many pleasant, and some unpleasant, sensa-
tions, but we do not regard these as implying beauty or
the opposite. The feeling of a healthy body, breathing
fresh air and enjoying it, may be very stimulating; the
food and viands at a table may be very luscious and grate-
ful ; and the odors from a bed of Tioleta, or roses, or even
from a field of beans (described by Thomson), may be
very elysian, but it does not rise to the region of the iS
Kakov, or beautiful. We distinguish between a kitchen, a
cookery, a perfumery on the one hand, and a palace of
art on the other. It is one of the excellences of Kant's
elaborate but artificial theory of the beautiful in his
" Critique of the Judgment," which mediates between
the Judgment and the Reason, that beauty is that which
pleases without interest or pleasure taken in the object.
In touch proper, or feeling, we are pleasantly affected by
smooth, and offended by rough, surfaces. This is the one
truth in Burke's very inadequate theory of beauty. It
has to be added that all these may be woven into scenes
deservedly called beautiful. In pictorial narratives meat
and drink are given to weary travelers; painters often
set before us rich banquets, glossy foliage, and living
streams ; and poets may bring in floating perfumes, and
bracing breezes, and soft lawna on which we would wish
to recline and be at rest. In all such cases there is
beauty, but beauty raised by association, by interesting
connections, and suggested feelings.

PLACE OF SENSATION IN ESTHETICS.

155

We seem to be rising toward the testhetic in sweet
souuds and rich colors wliich may, as it were, constitute
an earthly paradise, but we have not mountud into the
ethereal in which beauty and love have their habitation.
These are, after all, merely sweet sensations which pre-
pare a soil in which the plant may grow; but there is no
f;arden till living seed is thrown in and begins to
grow. Even in gazing with delight on lovely forms,
such as those of well proportioned bnildlngs, and of
plants and animals, of miin and woman, there may be
merely a pleasant sentient feeling arising fiom the ways
in which the undulations of light affect the optic or-
ganism.

But already we are rising, as on wings, into a higher
sphere. We have mounted, it may be without knowing
it, into the region of proportions and adaptatious, with
all their con-elationa and concomitants more wonderful
than the harmonies of the spheres. It has been ac-
knowledged, since the days of Pythagoras, that there are
numerical relations in music felt in the organism and
pleasantly recognized by the mind. There are colors
that are melodious, and others which are harmonious,
which first affect the ocular sense in a stimulating way
and produce vibrations in tlie sensorium, which are per-
ceived in a sort of unconscious way in the mind, and
raise an idea of adaptation of design and of mind, which
may be the ultimate idea, and are the true basis, of the
aisthetic emotion. It is believed that in forms recognized
as beautiful thei-e are proportions and ratios which may
be expressed in mathematical formulae. These raise a
rhythm in the sentient oi^anism, and ideas are raised up,
felt to be stimulating because of their suggestions. The
instrument is now tuned, and is ready to give us the
music.

K kinds

I with

^^ comei

156 ESTHETICS.

Mr. Grant Allen ^ has heen succcBsful in showing tliiit
much of the pleasant, sentient feeling arises from the
alternate stimulation and repose of the nerves, "For it
is a cumnion experience that continued stimulation of a
nerve deadens it, after a, short time, to the action of the
stimulus, while intermission of the stimulation gives time
for the renewal of the nervous excitability and a conse-
quent liability to fresh stimulation." " There is reason,"
he tells us, " to believe that the optic Hbrea and terminal
organs iire repaired in ordinary cases seventeen times per
second, and those of the auditory nerves thirty-three
times per second." In applying this law, he says "the
nervous system has put itself into a position of expect-
ancy and is ready for the appropriate discharge at the
light moment." The correct statement is that the mind,
not the nervous si/stem, is put into a state of expectancy.
The intellect would be disappointed if the stimulus did
not come at its time. It anticipates the coming and it is
gratified when it keeps its promise. It delights to notice
the beats in the time. The intellect is, to a large extent,
a comparative or correlative power: observing relations
and delighting in the exercise as widening its sphere of
vision. Here it is observing the relations of time and
follows the beats ; it feels that there is a jar and is
offended when they do not appear in their order. This,
it will he acknowledged, has an important place in the
pleasure derived from music, and furnishes the intellect-
ual element which, as we shall see, goes on to produce the
ffisthetic emotions. This, no doubt, is the origiu of the
sentiment produced by rhythm in poetry, and the higher
kinds of prose. As the ear and the thought fall in
with the swing we are stimulated, and the emotion be-
comes Eeathetic I have no doubt there is something of

• Fhytiologicai jEslhetia,

PHYSICAL BEAUTY.

tbe same process b the sense of beauty produced by har-
monious colors .1

SECTION III.

PHYSICAL BEADTT.

The feeling of beauty, I h;ive no doubt, i
bodily sensation. There are sounds, colors, odors, tastes,
touches, forms, which pleasaiilly wffect tbe orgiiuisiu.
These are the beginnings, and I rather think they go up,
as an element, into our higher esthetic affections. It is
certain that if an object be felt as harsh by our sensory
organs it vcill not be iippreciated as beautifuL In tho
case of some of the senses, with taste, smeli, and feeling,

1 Mr. Gnint Allen, in his Physiological ^alhtliea, bae done more thsji
vaj author befoFB him to nnfold the nature of the sriuiatiiTua which pre-
cede the rise of the testhetic emotions. He delinea llie le^theiieiilly bi^a-
titnl as " that vhich affords the maximum of siimulation, nith the iniDi-
main of fatigue, or wnste, in processes not dirpctlj connected with vital
functions." The laDtjaage is aufficieutlj vngne. We ate not tolil what
BOTt of Htinmlatiou ia referred to ! of body 1 or of mind ? There niaj' bo
Btimutation of body bb in violeut exercise; and of mind as in fcnr, auger,
where there is notbing asthetic. He reslricts the deRuitiua : " Tbe procenaeB
are not to be directly connected with vital functioua," that ia, are not Co
be utilitarian. 1 am aure tliat mere ntilitariau ideas will nut awaken the
iMthetic emotion. Bat as little will it hinder ii, provided all the CGaeuilal
elements are present. A lovely field will not be less admired hj me be-
cause it is my own, and fumisbes me with fruit and grain, and coulributea
to my health as I walk in it. Mere aentienl stimulation, however restricled
or enlarged, Dever coastitutes the beautiful. We mnst have other and
higher elements added. Profeaaor Bain seems at times to have a glimpse
of this. He tells ua that " the objecla of tbe fine arts, and all obJL-ets
culled leslhetic, are exempt from the fatal taint of rivalry and couteat
attaching to other agreeablcs ; they draw men tot;ether in maimit sympathy
and are thus eminenily social and humanining." But this is an effect of
the nsihctic sentiment, and not an element in it. In short, this earth-phil.
osopby gives na a mere chemical analysis of the soil in which the plant
growB, bttt does not show us the plant itself. Mr Allen often speaka of
llie "thrill of emotion." He ahould hare gone on tu unfold the mental
Id this thrill.

158 ESTHETICS.

the special animal senses, there are only pleasant sensa-

tionB, and nothing that can be described as aesthetic. But
in the higher senses, in sounds, colors, and forms, there
are harmonious relations in the forces operating upon
and in the organism, and these, being perceived sponta-
neously, though very obscurely it may be, raise higher
classes of feeling which constitute the sense of beauty.

Muiical Souttds. Those who have the peculiar gift
feel themselves, as they listen to the strains of music, to
be in a state of pleasurable excitement. From the time
of Pytbagoraa it has been knovpn that the sounils are
characterized by definite mathematical relations. " Two
sets of vibrations, regular each in itself, and bearing a
relation to each other by uniting together, form a vibra-
tion which is also reguhir, and the whole impression is
regtdar, whereas two vibrations which bear no commen-
surate ratio to each other, however regular each may be
in itself, will not, by their union, produce a regular vibra-
tion, and the result is not music, but a noise. So, also,
when the nerve has been affected with a particular vibra-
tion, it will necessarily accommodate itself with more
ease to anew vibration, the more simple the ratios that
this vibration beai's to the former, so that those which
bear the simplest ratios to each are most in harmony
with eaeh." Some such law as this, it is said, general izfs
all the phenomena of harmony and discord. Hence it is,
when two notes are in harmony the lengths and tensions
of the strings producing the sound bear certain ratios to
each other, and that when the notes are discordant tiie
ratios are incommensurable. "Music," says Mr. Sully,
" affords three distinct ordera of gratification. First of
all, in its discrete, in its melodic and harmonic combi-
nations, it satisfies, seemingly, simple sensibilities of the
ear." Helmholtz supposes that the cooperation of several

PHYSICAL BEAUTY.

159

continuous nervous pi-ocessea in distinct fibres is sin ade-
quate cause of the pleasures of harmony. Mr, Sully con-
tinues, "Further, in its arraugement of these tonic ele-
ments, under certain forms of tune, accepted rhythm,
key, and undulation of key, it presents numerous beau-
ties of symmetry and unity, which gratefully employ the
intellectual faculties. Finally, it exercises a mysterious
spell on the soul, Btirring up deep currents of emotion,
and awaking vague ideas of the Infinite, the Tragic, and
the Serene." ^ This is all I am able to say of the beiiuty
of music, in which, be it observed, we have the concur-
rence of three distinct classes of agencies, fii-st, the ratios
in the vibrations of sound, secondly, the adapted state of
the organism, and thirdly, the ideational and emotional
mental state produced.

Beauty in Forme. From the days of Plato, or rather
of Pythagoras, attempts have been made to find out a
law of the forms felt to be beautiful, founded on mathe-
matical principles, and capable of being expressed quan-
titatively. Some are laboring to discover the guiding
rule of those curves which we admire ao much in the
gothic window. It has been asserted' that certain mathe-
matical forms, with modifications, are the bases of the
beautiful proportions in Grecian architecture. Hogarth's
line of beauty was a serpentine, formed by drawing a line
round from the apex to the base of a tall cone, a figuro
which suggests design and grace. But this is only one
of a number of lines of beauty. I confidently cherish the
belief that sooner or later we may have a mathematical
expression of the laws of form discerned as beautiful.

But even when this is successfully accomplished, we

have not touched the more important problem. How do

these mathematical forms raise the feeling of beauty?

' Seiitatian and Intuition, p. 220.

ItiO JISTHETICS.

Nor have we explained every tiling when wc sbow that
the mesisured uudulatiuns which ennble us to see them
produce a pleasant sensation on the eye and optic organ-
ism. For the question arises, How should this sensation
produce an aesthetic feeling in the mind?

Our analysis has shown that there is an idea, or a per-
ception, as the nucleus of all emotion. May we not find
a competent idea in the contemplation of harmonious
Bounds and well proportioned forms? I am inclined to
think that in all aesthetic feeling there is a perception,
or rather a succession of rapid perceptions, of relation,
order, and harmony, indicating mind or purpose. It is
certain that the feeling of beauty will not rise if there
be an evident want of unity, symmetry, and proportion :
if there be a limb torn from the body, or a side from the
tree, or a prominent hulk in one part of a building with-
out a corresponding prominence in another to balance it.
The perception of the harmony is derived from the or-
derly affection of the sensory organism, which, again, is
produced by the orderly vibrations of the air or light.
As the regular affections are noticed there is an idea of
order, and of mind producing the order. This idea gives
rise to a feeling which attaches us to the object which we
declare to be beautiful ; we are drawn towards it, and
come to delight in it and love it.

Beauty of Color. " Light is pleasant to the eyes "
always when it is not excessive. I believe that all the
various hues into which it can be decomposed are also
agreeable. A bright light attracts the eyea of infants,
as also of certain insects which whirl round the candle.
Children delight in bonfires, illuminations, and rockets.
Red attracts the eyes of young people, and of savages, as
does also yellow, to a less degree. Green, the most piev-
alent color in nature, has a more soothing infiuence, as

PHYSICAL BEAUTY. 161

it comee from leafage, and sky, and shallow sea. While
these colors gratify the oi^anisra, I do not regard the
sensations as esthetic, any more than the pleasures of
taste and sinell.

The {esthetic feelings proper do not arise till we have
two colors in a relation to each other. There may be a
low form of beauty in what have been called melodious
colors, that is, colors which glide into others that are
contiguous in the scale, as when h]ue mns gracefully into
green, as we often see in pigeons, and yellow into red, as
we see in geraniums. There is a higher form of beauty,
attracting the eye and stimulating the mind, in harmony
of colors. Two colors are said to be in harmony when
together they make up the white be.im.

In the last age the accepted doctrine was that of Brews-
ter, that the three primary colors in the beam were red,
yellow, and blue, which by their mixtures give us all other
colors ; thus blue and yellow mixed give us green. The
accepted doctrine of the present day is that of Young,
accepted by Helmtioltz, that the primary colors are red,
green, and violet ; thus yellow is made of red and green.
There is a correspondence between these colors and the
organism. "Dr. Young supposes that there are in the
eye three kinds of nerve-fibres, the first of which, when
irritated in any way, produces the sensation of red, the
second the sensation of green, and the third that of violet.
He further assumes that the first are excited most
sti-ongly by the waves of ether of greatest length ; tlie
second, which are sensitive to green light, by the waves
of middle length ; while those which convey impressions
of violet are acted upon only by the shortest vibrations
of ether. Accordingly, at the red end of the spectrum,
the excitation of those fibres which are sensitive to that
color predominates ; hence the appearance of this part

I
I

162 ESTHETICS.

as red. Further on tliere is added an impression upon
the fibres aenaitive to green light, and thus reaulta the
mixed sensation of yellow. In the middle of the spec-
trum the nerves sensitive to green become much more
excited than the other two kinds, and accordingly green
is the predominant impression. As soon as this becomes
mixed with violet the result is the color known as blue,
while at the most highly refracted end of the spectrum,
the impression produced on the fibres which are sensi-
tive to violet light overcomes every other." '

It is universally admitted that complementary colors
are felt to be beautiful when they fall simultaneously
under the eye. But the white beiim, wlien it falls upon
our atmosphere, and upon objects on our earth, is often
divided into two parts, which are complementary of eacli
other! and these presented to the eye raise an jesthetic
feeling. We may notice these harmonies in the evening
sky, and they allure our eye towards them and call forth
emotion. We have a like division of rays when tlie beam
falls on plants. It falls upon the leaf and the green rays
are reflected by the chlorophyl, and the others are said
to be absorbed according to laws which have not yet
been determined. But these absorbed raya are not ex-
tinguished or lost. I believe they tend to come forth in
some part of the plants as colors which will be comple-
mentary to the green and take the hue of red. The eye
delights to see the fruit of the cherry, the rose, and the
thorn, and the berry of the holly, the yew, and the com-
mon barberry, the mountain ash, and unnumbered others
peeping forth from the green leaves. In like manner,
when the white beam falls on the petals of flowers, tln^

' Helmholti, Papular Scientific Leclura, translHted by AtkinHon, p. 250.
[ may express die opinion tliat these ttieories will require tu be extLmineil
and rciulju^tcd bufare iixcj can conform to, or explain, all the p!

INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY. 106

blue-red, which is the most common color of the corolla,
will be reflected, and the other raya will come out in
Bome Bort of yellow.

A like harmony may be detected in the plumage of
birds which often have a tawny hue, being a red-ye!low,
with other portions oE a dark blue. In more ornamented
birds we have a yellow-red with a bhie-green. Mitny
shells of nioUuaca are characterized by an orange-yellow
ground with bluish-purple spots. It has been noticed
that attention has been paid to harmony of colors in thu
finer specimens of stained glass, and this commonly from
a delicate taste, and not from a knowledge of the scien-
tiBe laws of color.

The general result reached is, that in lovely oolora
there is, first, a relation of the rays of light; second, an
adaptation of the rays to the organ of vision ; and thirdly,
a pleasurably excited state which deserves to be called

SECTION IV.

INTELLECTtJAL BEAUTY.

Profound thinkers in various ages and countries have
been in wonderful agreement with each other in main-
taining that there is a beauty arising from harmony aud
proportion. Plato evidently regarded the to KoXof as con-
sisting in bringing order out of chaos, in taking in objects
from the waste, in setting bounds to the liinitieas, in giv-
ing forma to the formless, in imposing the idea on mat-
ter. Augustine described beauty as consisting in order
and design. Francis Hutcheson represented it as unity
with variety. Diderot spoke of beauty as consisting in
relations; a theory which may contain a fundamental
truth, but is miserably bald till it is robed in richer
(olora. Hegel regards the form of beauty as unity of

164 ESTHETICS.

the manifold, and traces in nature (especially organic^
and in art a dependence, that is, unity, along with lib-
erty in the parts. There must be some truth iu these
views. They err, aa it appears to me, in being too nar-
row, and overlooking other principles which should be
joined with them.

It may be maintained that the spontaneous perception
of a iminber of relations among objects lias a tiendeucy
to raise up feelings of beauty always when it is associ-
ated with mind, with order, design, benevolence, or moral
excellence. We may find proofs and illustrations of this
in all the relations which the mind of man can discover.

(1.} The mind feels a pleasure in observing aameneti
and difference!. The mind demands a unity in the
beautiful object, but this does not indicate a meaning
unless there be also variety. There is a satisfaction in
noticing the variety of our mental states, of oiir ideas,
feelings, moods, while the self abideth. We like to see
the repetition with infinite diversities of prevaihng forms
in the vegetable and animal kingdoms. Every part of
the plant, the whole tree, the branch, the leaf, is after
one model, while every part is diversified to suit its funt^
tion. A great uniformity is given to the higher animals
by the skeleton being formed of vertebra, constructed (if
like pieces, while every part is adapted to its function.
There is an individuality in the plant and animal, and
the oneness is most strikingly evidenced in the variety
being made to conform to the unity. When we look at
all this we spontaneously, without an effort and without
reflection, discover mind and purpose, and this is fitted
to raise feehng, and unless it is hindered by other ideas
will raise feeling, not, it may be, very intense, but still
SufiGcient to draw us toward the objects, and make us
leel an interest in them as if they were companions or

INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY, IbO

friends. We shrink from the bare desert where there
are no such objects, and are reeoncilwl to it only by an-
other feeling being awakened, a sense of freedom.

(2.) The mind is pleased in noticing the relation of
whole and parts, particularly of means and etids. On a
concrete or a complex whole being presented to us wf
!ire anxious, for the sake of comprehending it, to have it
resolved uito parts, and as scattered objects fiiU under
our eye we wonder if they cannot be combined. We
are gratified when the complicated whole can be broken
into comprehensible pieces, and when the pieces can be
made to fit into each other to make up a regular whole.
A feeling of delight is apt to be called forth when we
discover a number of independent circumstances combin-
ing to the production of one end, as we notice all the
parts of a machine cooperating to effect its purpose, and
ill! parts of the bodily frame, bones, ligaments, and mus-
elea, to promote the easy movement of a joint and the
comfort of the animal. When this combination seems to
take place by chance we simply wonder, but when we
are made to believe that it is the issue of a purpose and
plan a feeling of interest arises, and we are apt to say,
" How beautiful." We have here feelings of beauty
raised by design, design evidenced by a combination.

(3.) We are impelled to seek and to notice resem-
blances, and are delighted when we can coordinate ob-
jects and gather them into classes. The mind feels bur-
dened when it is obliged to carry with it innumerable
particulars. It is relieved when it can put these under
lieads. It is delighted when it discovers, either in art or
in nature, that order is established, and has evidently
been intended, say in the arrangement and distribution of
objects in a room or in a garden, or in the forms of plants
»nd animals. A feeling of a high order is gradually gen-

166

dered as we discover and contemplate species, genera,
orders, and kingdoms in animate nature, iind truce a pro-
gression from man to angel, archangel, and God Himself.
It is better that tliia arrangement should not be too for-
mal, for this might look mechanical, and as if it pru-
ce(;ded from unconscious law or blind force ; it raises the
idea of purpose more certainly where there is variety
with the uniformity, and freedom is seen subordinated to
government.

(4.) ThiTe is a kind of Eesthetic feeling excited even
by the perception of the relations of ipace : there is a sort
of beauty, as Plato proclaimed, and as all mathemati-
cians maintain, in certain mathematical figures ; we feel
it to be so, as we discover their properties. We have
seen that there is pleasing sensation excited in our ocular
organism by certain forms caused by the regular vibra-
tions of the rays of light. But this bodily sensation can
scarcely be described as esthetic til! there is some sort
of spontaneous, and almost unconscious, perception of the
harmonies by the mind. These harmonies, being noticed,
will produce a feeling of a very lofty character. Our
minds are filled with grandeur when we contemplate the
movements of the moon, the earth, the sun, and the con-
stellations in their spheres. How interesting to notice
the same shape in the tree and its leaf : to trace the
spii-al tendency of all the appendages of the plant, of
biida, leaves, scales, branches ; and to discover in pines
and firs every part taking a conical shape — the whole
contour of the tree is a cone, cut off any portion and the
piirt cut off is a cone, the fruit organs are cones, and the
very amenta are conical. Fechner has brought into
notice, defended, and illustrated a theory of Zeiser as to
the beauty of the golden section, which in the division
of a line, say in a cross, makes the smaller division bear

INTELLECTUAL BEAUTT.

167

&e same proportion to the larger as the larger to the
whole,

(5.) The relations of time may raise a feeling of
beauty. The alternation of day and night, the periodi-
cal return of the seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and
winter, the revolutions of the heavenly Liidies, and thu
mighty cycles or seons of eternity, all elevate the mind
as we contemplate them.

(6.) The contemplation of the relations of quantity ia
an intellectual rather than an emotional exercise. Bat
symmetry, balances and counterbalances, equipoises, com-
pensations, and harmonies, all of which are quantitative,
have always been supposed to have a place in the senti-
ment of the beautiful. Tliey are always required, and
are noticed in architecture. They enter, in the way I
have described, as ideas to stir up feeling.

(7.) Is it not because we delight to follow the rela-
tions of active property that we feel such pleasure in the
activity which everywhere falls under our eye? We de-
light to see the moving cloud, the waving foliage, the
driving wind, the leaping stream, and to watch the rest-
less ocean; we experience a higher emotion when we
gaze, not only on activity, but on life, on the flying bird,
the frisking lamb, the gamboling colt, the rtHnping girl,
the frolicksome boy. Through the law of association
everything that suggests action and life is apt to be felt
as interesting and lovely. Ruskin represents vital beauty
as consisting in the felicitous fulhllment of function in
living things.

(8.) There is greater difficulty in showing how cauxa-
tion raises any Eesthetic feeling. Yet, surely, we are
pleased when we can trace an effect to its cause and
notice a cause producing its effect. We are offended
when we have to look on a mighty apparatus of means

168 JISTHETICS.

set agoing and no corresponding effect following, as when
a mountain opens to let out a mouse. We are griitified
when we see a concurrence of Hgenciea evidently estab-
lislied and designed for accomplisbing a aeries of benefi-
cent effects. What is causation but power ? and our
minds are enlivened by noticing power everywhere in
exercise, and a sense of propriety, rising to beauty, is in
constant exercise when we see power put forth for good.

There is an incipient feeling of beauty raised by in-
genious machinery, in which we have a number of forces
uniting to accomplish an end. But the lestbetic senti-
ment is apt to be swallowed up in the utilitariiin, which
is the stronger in our nature, that is, we contemplate the
useful end secured by the engines. A like remark may
be made in regard to final cause as discoverable every-
where in nature. Final cause is not the Siime as efficient
cause. Final cause is the effect of a number of different
causes being made to combine to accomplish an evident,
it may be a benevoltnt, end. There is a feeling of beauty
called forth as we notice a conspiracy of means to pro-
duce a good end: say nerves, muscles, and joints com-
bining to enable us to move our arm in a variety of di-
rections ; or rays of light from the sun millions of miles
away, and coats and humors of the eye and the sensitive
retina, and the color cones, cooperating so that we see
the objects of nature with their hues and tints. But as
we examine these processes our thoughts are apt to be
absorbed by them, and the aesthetic feeling fades into
dimness.

I might here introduce and dwell upon moral beauty,
which consists in a harmony of good, in character and
conduct. But this would imply an inquiry into the office
of conscience, which I decline entering upon in this trea-
tise.

THE IDEA RAISING THE ESTHETIC FEELING.

SECTION V.

We are not to understjtnd, from what Iiaa been said,
that the sentiment of beauty consists in a pleasant sensa-
tion or in a perception of reltitions. These may consti-
tute the root and stalk, but they are not the flower ; rising
out of the sensations and relations there must be a feel-
ing. This feeling, if there be any truth in our analysis
of emotions, must proceed from an idea. The question
is, What is the idea ?

There must, I think, be some perception of relations.
But such a perception does not of itself call forth the emo-
tion. Indeed, if we look merely to the relation, and dwell
upon it, no feeling will come forth. Suppose, for instance,
that we study the relations of quantity in arithmetic, and
inquire into complex and recondite causes in philosophic
speculation, the whole mental energy will be expended
in the intellectual exercise and there will be no appreciar
tion of beauty. In order to the feeling being raised
there must, so it appears to me, be some idea of adapta-
tion, harmony, or end, in short, of some mental quality,
such as order or design. It is only when the perception
of relations goes on to this that the esthetic feeling
properly so called ia evoked. If it stop short of this
there may be pleasant impressions, profound thought,
and high admiration, but these do not amount to a sense
of beauty. It is when the relations are regarded as signs
of some high quality of intelligenoe that the feeling ia
called forth ; and the precise nature of the feeling is de-
termined by the nature of the idea.

Ruskin has seized on a great truth in his works on the
Beautiful and has unfolded it in a grand but mystical
manner. His typical beauty consists of qualities of objects

170 iStaETics.

typifying a divine attribute. There Is Infinity, the type

of the divine incompveheUBibility ; Unity, the type of the
divine pomprehensibility ; Repaae, the type of the divine
permanence ; Symmetry, the type of the divine juatice ;
I'lirity, the type of the divine energy ; Moderation, the
type of government by law. He ehould, 1 think, have
represented Purity as the type of the divine holiness, and
brought in Life as a type of the divine energy. Alto-
gether the aecount is symbolic rather than real. It is
doubtful if this be an accurate claasificalion and arrunge-
nient of the mental qualities which, perceived in objects,
(tall forth the feathetic feeling. These are, in fact, so
many and so varied that it is difficult to classify them.
But Rnakin's symbols bring before us a number of their
leading characteristics. It has to be added, what Kaut
so emphatically taught, that the highest beauty consists
in the symbolization of moial good.

It might be difficult to specify all that this idea con-
templates. It may be said, generally, that it is mind dis-
played in an infinite variety of ways. The more promi-
nent manifestations have been meutioned and dwelt upon
by profound thinkers, from Plato downwards, who dis-
cover in nature and in art symmetry, balancings, coun-
terpoises, proportions, liarmoniea, beneficences. Ruskin,
in hia nchly-colored though somewhat fanciful works,
has discovered other forms, such as sacrifice, truth, power,
life, obedience. The idea of these, not in their abstract
sliape, but in objects, raises emotions which differ and
\aiy according to the objecta contemplated, or rather the
quality discerned in the objecta.

It ia of moment to notice one very important element
commonly entering into the emotional idea. We are apt
to clothe with pei-sonality and with feeling the inanimate
objects in which we are intereated. In consequence

THE IDEA EAISING THE d:STHETIO FEEUNQ.

171

these objects gather round them the feelings — which
we have described in the hist chapter — directed to ani-
mate objects. Tlie feelings arising from the contempla-
tion of living beings, ourselves or others, are the first to
arise in the mind, and they are almost always stronger
than those evoked by things without life or feeling.
But they will go on by association to attach themselves
to objects in nature and in art which seem to show
mental qualities, such as power, complacency, and benefi-
cence. We are apt to personify such objects. We even
give them a sex : the stronger we think of and represent
as a male, as a man, and the more delicate and tender
as a female, a woman, and we call tbem he and she, as if
they were human ; thus most nations give the sun mas-
culine, and the moon feminine quaHties. We seem to
believe momentarily that the objects must have life and
feeling and intention. We feel as if they possess the
power they display, and mean the good they confer.
We come to regard nati're as rejoicing or as grieving
with us. We feel as if the stormy ocean were indignant
and raving ; as if the tempest were offended and howl-
ing at us ; aa if the sea birds were chiding at us ; as if
the odors were enjoying their own richness ; and the
fruits relishing their own sweetness; and the flowers
gazing on their own forms and colors ; and the woods
resting in their solitudes ; and the streams expressing
their feelings in their leapings, and in their sighings.
"They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness: and
the little hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are
clothed with flocks ; the valleys also are covered over
with corn ; they shout for joy, they also sing." Adorning
them with such qualities we love them, or are awed by
tbem, and all the feelings primarily called up hy loving
objects flow forth toward and collect around them. In

172 j:sthetics.

civilized societies, and among people possessed of culture,
there 13 a large amount of this personifying representa-
tive and sympathetic feeling entering into our contem-
plation of natural und artistic objects. What is art,
what are painting, sculpture, and architecture (so far as
it rises above mere building for shelter) but signs made
by the brush or the hammer, of objects or things, fitted
to awaken feeling towards them as if they were living
realities ?

We have thus got a starting-point for the sentiment.
The mental activity is stirred up by the sensation and
the correlations, and an idea of a high kind is produced,
accompanied with emntiim. This idea raises np other
ideas according to the laws of association, especially by
the high law of correlation, bringing in resemblances,
contrasts, means and ends, causes and consequents, and
many others, all connected with one another, and tend-
ing to raise up like feelings. This accounts for the train
of images all of a sort which Alison brings into such
prominence, and which swells the river by new streams
ever flowing in.

There is, therefore, a truth in the doctrine that all
beauty arises from association. But it is not just the
association of ideas spoken of by Hutcheson, Beattie,
Alison, Jeffrey, and the Scottish school of metaphysicians.
The idea raised by the correlations perceived is a very
lofty idea, it is specially the Idea of Plato, of mind in
objects, of intelligence or beneficence; and it is this idea,
and not tlie train of images, that calls forth the true emo-
tion of beauty. When this idea with its feeling has bei'n
evoked it will be followed by a whole train of thoughts
and fancies, in the manner described by Alison, thus con-
tinuing and enhancing the emotive state, and, in fact,
making it very complex, and often very intense.

THE IDEA EAISIKG THE JISTHETIC FEELING.

178

There is a sense, then, in which it may be said that
there are beautiful objects, and that thern is beauty in
the object ; there is a proportion, harmony, or beiiignancy,
and it is the bnsineaa of science to discover what thia is.
But there is a sense in which the beauty is in the mind ;
for it ia when these high qiialitiea are perceived that the
feeling ia evoked. There is a sense in which the teathetic
taste is a derivative and a complex one, implying intel-
lectual and emotive powers, and a process. There is a
aenae in which it ia simple and original, for the idea ia
Buggf sted spontaneously, and calls forth the feeling nat-
urally in all men.

By thia theory we can account for the sameness and
yet diversities of aisthetic tiiste among mankind. There
are faculties in all men which tend toward the produc-
tion of a sense of beauty, a pleasure felt in certain sounds,
shapes, and colors, the disposition to observe relations,
and to discover mind in them, and an emotion ready to
rise. These things give an esthetic capacity to all men,
and lead to a certain community of taste. But, on the
other hand, each of these implied elements may difEer in
the case of different individuals. Some, for instance,
have little or no ear for music, some seem to take no in-
terest in forms or colors of any kind, and people with
such defective organizations cannot notice the harmonies
involved, or have the aesthetic idea and feeling thus de-
rived. In some the intellectual capacity and activity
are so feeble that they do not notice the correlations, or
observe them very sluggishly, and the same, or othera,
may have little emotive impressibility. Some, agidn,
have a very sensitive organism, capable of reporting the
nicest distinctions, say of sound. Or they have a quick-
ness in noticing relations. Or they ever mount up in
their thoughts to the contemplation of mind manifested

174 ESTHETICS.

in in:itter. Or they are susceptible of deep emotion
when high ideas are presented to them. When there are
such differences in constitution we see how there must
be differences in the strength of the leathetic sense.

There will thua be a diversity in the tastes. This
arises from tlie absence or presence of the various ele-
ments, and from their relative measure of strength. A
man without a musical ear can have no relish for tunes,
but may have a strong passion for colors. The man of
dull capacity may not be able to discern the harmimiea
that enter into the higher forms of beauty in art and nat-
ure. The man of low moral tone may not be capable of
forming elevating ideas. The man of heavy temperament
may never rise to rapture on any subject. Then, differ-
ent individuals have, fortunately, a taste for different ob-
jects. Some can enjoy beauty of art but not beauty of
scenery. Some love flower painting but have no pleasure
in gazing on historical paintings. Some discover a beauty
in this man or that woman which others cannot discern.
This difference of taste arises mainly from the relative
strength of the elements which produce the sentiment,
from the nature of the organism in some cases, and the
aptitude to observe or not to observe certain relations, or
to rise or not to rise to noble ideas.

The sense of beauty differs at different periods of the
age of the individual, and of the race. The fact is, the
mind requires to be educated up to the perception of
the higher kinds of beauty. Mere physical beauty may
be felt by all who have the appropriate bodily organ, by
the child, the boor, the savage. But the recognition of
nobler forms of loveliness implies intelligence and, possi-
bly, a careful training. The child, the peasant, can enter
thoroughly into the spirit of the simple Scotch, or Irish,
or Negro melodies, but, while he may wonder at them,

THE IDEA RAISING THE JSTHETIC FEELING.

175

has no appreciation of the grand Italian and German
oratorioa. He may Lave a pleasure in looking on a rich
plain or a grassy bank, but he is aatonisbed when he
hears persons raving so about mountain peaks or passes;
for himself he would rather be safe on the level ground
below. Our rapturous lovers of nature in these times
are astonished to find how Uttle there is of rapt admira-
tion of scenery in the classical writers. Homer, speaking
of rich plains, represents them as good for feeding asses.
Tiiere is a poetry, suth as that of Robert Burns, which
comes liome to the hearts of all ; it is the same to some
extent with the poetry of Homer, Shakespeare, Gold-
smith, Scott, and Longfellow. It is different with some
other poetry, such as that of Spenser and Milton, which
can be enjoyed only by the educated ; and still more so
with the poetry of Wordsworth, and Keats, and Tenny-
son, and Hawthorne, and Browning, which can be thor-
oughly relished only by minds addicted to reflection and
capable of following more refined and recondite analogies.
As a nation becomes more highly educated there will be
a greater number of persons in it capable of relishing the
higher forms of beauty. This will be greatly promoted
by the establishment of schools of art and design, open
to all ; and by the habit of traveling annually among
the grander scenes of nature, and visiting galleries of
painting and sculpture; and it will be furthered most
effectively by diffusing a higher education among the
great mass of the people, who will thereby have a greater
imraber of ideas, and be prepared to discover those rap-
idly discerned relations which are implied in the exer-
cise of the EBsthetic sense.

jlT0 .ESTHETICS.

SECTION VI.

WBAT IB THIS TRnS THROBT OF BBAUTT?

There are some agreements and many d iff ere noes

among those who have speculated on this aubject. The
sentiment is so delicate, is often so fugitive, arisea in such
different circumstances, and is so complex in its assooia-
tions that it is difficult to determine its precise nsiture.
Some hold that it is, or at least that at the basis of the
whole there is, a simple, unresolvable feeling. Others
argue that it differs so widely in different persona, ages,
and nations that it must be derived from other princi-
ples, or be the result of circumstances. Let us combine
the results that have been reached in the course of our
observation and reflection, and see if they correspond and
come up to our actual experience.

In certain cases our sensitive organism is affected, but
in a way that indicates relations and harmonies which
are perceived, often in an occult way, by the mind ; such
ia the case with colors, sounds, forma. In other cases the
order is noticed without there being any organic or extra-
organic act or affection, say an order of unity with differ-
ence, or a concurrence of powers. Still, all this does not
amount to beauty, or the emotion of beauty. But this pre-
pares the way for an idea which calls forth the emotion.
Spontaneously we discover the result of mind, of intelli-
gence, of design, perhaps of benevolence, in these adapted
relations. This idea raises up emotion, which constitutes
the true sesthetic feeling.

liegarded in this light, the sentiment of beauty may
vary infinitely by reason of the mixture of the elements.
The smoke curling from the cottage, in the sweet vales,
Bay, of county Wicklow or Kilkenny, in Ireland, deepens
the sentiment of quiet and peacefulness as we cherish

WHAT IS THK TRUE THEORY OF BEAUT V ?

177

the idea of happy dwellers within. The Scotch and
Swiss lakes are seen to sleep so quietly in scenes of ter-
ror. The deep goi^es in the fiords of Norway, and of
the Saginaw in Canada, guarded so strongly on both
sides, are relieved by the living streams in their bosom.
The awfulness of the cataract is often illuminated by the
sheen and sparkle of the waters, which may be irradiated,
as at Niagara and the Staubbacb, by the niinbow on its
spray, compared by Byron to love and madness. Often
18 there life communicated to a scene in nature, which
would otherwise be hard or dull, by a tree, or a plant, or
a little flower clinging to the rocks, or coming out of the
crevices modestly to show its beauties and timidly to
look for a brief season upon tbe day and the scene around
it. These fleecy clouds lying on our hills and dales add
to their loveliness as our day-dreams give a freshness to
our dull habitual life. Scenes of terror are often soft-
ened by the leafy foliage in which they are embosomed.
The beauties of the Rhine are greatly enhanced by the
antiquated towera associated with adventure, and the
vineyards on its banks. In all such cases the sentiment
is intensified by the unexpectedness of the object, by the
disaimilarity and contrast. In other cases all tbe objects
conspire to produce one effect; the mountains in deep
shadow, the steep precipice, the turreted rock may all be
before us and in one view. The howling wind, the agi-
tated wave, the ship driven helplessly, all enhance our
idea of the power of these moving elements. It has to
be added that there may be associations which completely
counteract and suppress the Eesthetic feeling. The man
weighed down with earthly cares, or with sorrow, cannot
appreciate beauty. Solomon tells us how vain it is to
sing songs to a heavy heart.

ESTHETICS.

SECTION vn.

INFLDBBCB or ASSOCIATION OS TASTE.

There is truth in the doctrine which resolves beauty
into association of idea. Alison maintains that the sen-
timent of bcanty is not "a simple but a complex emo-
tion ; that it involves in all cases the production of some
simple, or the e^serclse of some monil, affection; and,
secondly, the consequent excitement of a peculiar exerciae
of the imagination ; " and that " the peculiar pleasure of
the beautiful or sublime is only felt when these two
effects are conjoined, and the complex emotions pro-
duced." It is thus that " the gay lustre of a morning in
spring, or the mild radiance of a summer evening, the
Bavage majesty of a wintry storm, or the wild magnifi-
cence of a tempestuous ocean give rise to a variety of
images, and the sentiment of beauty is composed of the
pleasures of emotion and the pleasures of imagination."
There is truth in this theory, but it is not the whole
truth. It accounts for so much of the mental phenome-
non. It shows how the feeling is prolonged and intensi-
fied by the image after image tbat is raised up. But
it does not seem to me to embrace the whole. It does
not show very clearly how the feeling is started at first,
nor how the images pursue a certain train, all fitted to
call forth emotions of one character. We have to find
something in the object to evoke the feeling, and to con-
tinue the images, all of a certain kind. This we find in
the sensation in the case of music, color, and form, and
in the perception of relations indicative of mind in all
cases. We thus reach the idea which raises the feeling,
and which calls up by association other ideas of a like
kind to produce their special feelings, and thus carry on

I the mental affection indefinitely.
^

COMPLEXITY OF THE JESTHETtC AFFECTION. 1,9

Every one knows tliat association may give an artificial
b&iuty to objects. I knew a girl who wiifl acquainted
with only one lady of liigh rank, and as she was affected
with palsy the girl learned to associate lady-like manners
with shaking, and so indulged in it. An unpleasant
association may overcome a very decided taste. I know
that a powerful relish for a certain kind of food may be
counteracted by its being painful in the digestion, so
that the food is now regarded with aversion. It is often
remarked that familiarity may remove the first impres-
sions left by ugliness. People offensive to the bodily
sense may come to be delighted in because of their
amiable or noble qnalitiea. It is the same with scenes
of nature ; a man's birth-place may have no beauty in
itself, but his heart, if he have a heart, ever warms to-
wards it.

In such associations we transfer our feelings to the
objects.

"Sweet bird I thy bower ib aver green.
Thy ekj is ever clear ;
Thou haat no sorrow \o thj aoog,
No winter in thy year."
Such would be our feelings in the bower ; we transfer
them even to inanimate objects.

" His very foot has mneic in 't
As he comes np the stair."

SECTION vni.

Viewed in a wide sense the sentiment of beauty is a
very complex one, embracing such elements as sensations,
intellectual perceptions, ideas, memories, associations, feel-
ings. There may be more or fewer of these in any ses-
thetic state. When they combine and concur the senti-

180 ESTHETICS.

ment ia » very powerful one, and the object U r^arded
aa very beautiful. Thus there are scenes in which every
sensation is pleasant, balmy air, blue sky, lovely fiowers,
where we see power working in that water-fall, and con-
spiring agents, and ideas of plenty and happiness sug-
gested, as that river, rising in mggedness, is seen running
into fertile plains. There are paintings in which the
coloring is rich, the scenes illustrative of highest charac-
ter, and associated with great historical events. Such
scenes and pictures draw all eyes, and attract aU hearts,
and are constantly viBited by persons capable of the jbs-
tlietic sen ii ment.

Very frequently some of the elements Only are in ex-
ercise, or some of them are strong, and others are weak.
As the feeling is determined by the idea, and the idea
gets its force from the appetence, to which it corresponds,
the sentiment takes the special color of the ideas. It is
tbe aim of some authors, and of some artists, to furnish a
set of pictures, all which raise only one kind of idea, say
of sorrow, or sympathy, as by Sterne, in his " Sentimental
Journey," and Mackenzie, in his " Man of Feeling," and
the emotion is often made very intense. But if it is not
relieved in some way the mind is led, from the very
stretching and tension to which it is subjected, to break
away from it. Our most successful painters furnish sonne
kind of escape from dismal or painful scenes, as Rem-
brandt, by the light being made to shine in, as he used to
see when a boy, in his father's mill, or as others do, by
introducing an innocent, smiling child, or a bright-eyed
plant, into scenes of blood or terror. A judicious intro-
duction of such relief is often the mark of a high artist.
Shakespeare is true to nature when he places so near
each other dignity and buffoonery, the king and the
clown, crying and laughing, though I think he often so
mingles them as to become grotesque.

THE PICTUBESQUE. 181

1 some cases the sensation, say of gorgeoua color in a
landscape or a painting, or of luscious sound in music,
may overwhelm the more intellectual elements. Quite
as frequently the intellectual exercise, the perception of
relations, may be carried too far and rest in itself, and
arrest the higher idea and feeling ; it ia thus that a criti-
cal spirit may lessen the enjoyment, and the connoisseur
may have less pleasure than the common observer in
looking at a work of art. On the other hand, new, and
often higher, beauties may be discovered in a building, or
a landscape, by a more careful inspection, which detects
farther harmonies. In some the idea of mental qnalitiea
bulks so largely that it fills the eye to the exclusion of
everything else, and they gaze on order and on love. In
others the feeling, say that raised by music, puts the
whole Boul in a state of excitement, and very much stops
contemplation. In very many cases the train of associa-
tion runs in so strong a current that it carries all befora
it

SECTION IX.

THB PICTCRESqnE.

This is not the same as the beautiful. That bevy ol
young ladies standing on one of the promontories of the
Antrim coast, or of the lale of Skye, and breaking into
raptures, and crying, " How lovely, how lovely ! " that
company of mercantile youths, who have reached the Tell
Country, at the upper end of the Lake Lucerne, and are
looking up to the horrid overhanging masses of rock and
snow, and exclaim, "How beautiful, how beautiful!"
have certainly not been instructed (in whatever else they
may have been) in the science of taste. The peculiarity
of such scenes does not consist in their beauty, which
always soothes and softens the mind, but in their being
picturesque or sublime, and so rousing and stimulating iL

182 iESTHETICS.

The picturesque may best be explained by describing
it HB picture-like. Everything that the mind can vividly
picture is picturesque. The scenes which poaacss this
quality are specially addresst-d to the phantasy or imag-
ing power of the mind. They ataiid before us with a
marked form or a vivid outline. The mass of objects on
the earth are not of this exciting character. Just as the
ground colors of nature are soft or neutral, so the eartli'a
common scenes are irregular, or simply rounded in their
outline. Yet here and there arise picture-like objects
from the midst of them, to arrest the eye and print
themselves on the fancy. It may be noticed that the
grass and grain of the earth raise up their sharp points
from the surface to catch our eye. A still larger pro-
portion of objects above us, and standing between us and
the sky, have a clear outline or vivid points. This is
the case with the leaves, and the coma of trees, and with
not a few rocks and mountains. Rising out from quieter
scenes, they enliven, without exciting the mind, and tend
to raise that earthward look of ours and direct it to
heaven, to which they point.

The wide extending English lawn and the American
prairie are very lovely, but are not picturesque, for they
want rising points and sharp outlines. For the same
cause the boundless forests of Germany and America,
though they have a sort of sublimity, cannot be described
as having the quality of which I am speaking. Mount-
ains, such as we have in Ireland and Scotland, will be-
come sublime merely by their huge bulk or tovrering
hyght, but are not picturesque unless they be peaked,
jugged, or precipitous. All that has a sharp point, or a
sharp edge ; all that has a ridge, or is rugged ; all that
is steep or perpendicular, is especially fitted to leave its
sharply defined image in the mind. The very Lombardy

THE riCTCKESQUE.

183

poplar helps to relieve the tame plain. The church-
tower or apire fixes the whole village in the memory.
The wind-mill, though not the most Improved piece of
machinery, and though the movements of its outstretched
arms, as they forever pursue without overtaking each
other, are somewhat awkward, is, notwithstanding, a most
pifturesque object as seen hetween U3 and the sky. The
ship, with its pointed masts and ita white saila stretched
out to the breeze, makes the bay on which it sails look
more lively and interesting. More imposing, there are
the bold mountains which cleave the sky, and the sea-
worn rocks which have faced a thousand storms and are
as defiant aa ever. How placid does the, lake sleep in the
raiJst of them, sheltered by their overhanging eminences
and guarded by their turreted towers : heaven above
looks down on it with a smile and ia seen reflected from
its bosom.

There are narratives, there are tales, there are poems
which may be happily characterized as picturesque. Of
this description is the vivid account of the patriarchal
life in the book of Genesis ; we see, aa it were, the per-
sona and the scenes before us. Such, too, are the narra-
tives of Herodotus, in which he makes the condition and
the history o£ ancient Egypt and other eastern countriea
stand BO picture-like before us. In our own language
we have many picturesque writers. Defoe makes every
scene so lively that we feel aa if we were looking upon it,
and every incident so life-like that we feel as it we were
mingling in it. Sir Walter Scott, too, seta before us bis
old castles and dungeon -keeps, his heroes and heroines,
BO graphically that we cannot help feeling as if we were
spectators and actora in tlie scenes, and not mere liatenera
to a tale conjured up by the imagination of the author.
It may be observed of all auch picturesque descriptions

1S4 ESTHETICS.

that they are extremely Bimple, both in manner and

and style ; the authors make the persoiiB and events stand
out clearly and distinctly before us, like a statue upon a
column seen between ns and a bright sky.

SECTION X.

Hutcheson says that it is difficult to apeak gravely of
laughter, yet the gravest writers have discoursed of it
and with aiiiaziug gravity. Aristotle, so fond of bring-
ing all subjects within the grasp of his definitions, has
defined it, with some truth but certainly not with the
full trutli, as " some error in truth or propriety, but at
the same time neither painful nor pernicious." Cicero de-
scribes it as "that which without impropriety notes and
exposes an impropriety," and " a sudden conversion into
nothing of a long-raised and highly-wrought expecta-
tion." This definition may fitly apply to some kinds of
wit, but certainly not to all. Tbe same remark applies
to the defiuition of Hobbes, who gives the ludicrous a
very selfish origin, and makes it always imply pride,
whereas wit and humor have often a very innocent and
kindly origin. According to him " it is a sudden glory
or a sense of eminency above othera or our former
selves." Upon the whole, I am best pleased with the
definition given by Samuel Johnson in his " Life of Cow-
ley : " " Wit, abstracted from its effects upon the hearer,
may be more rigorously and philosophically considered
as a kind of discordia concora, a combination of dissimilar
images, or discovery of occult resemblances in things
apparently unlike." It certainly often arises from the
discovery of some unexpected resemblance or relation
between thitigB in every other respect dissimilar. But it

TEE LUDICROUS,

185

might be equally veil defined as a diseors eoncordia, and
arises from the discovery of unseen difTerences ia things
which eeem identical. A poor, weak man in rags fails
into a ditch and we commiaerate him and husten to help
him. A vain fool extravagantly dressed tumbles into
the same ditch and we are amused and allow him to
escape from the mire as best lie can. In the former case
there was no incongruity between the person and hia
pliglit, in the other case there is, and the sense of the
ludicrous is awakened. Funning, which is not the high-
est kind of wit, consists in giving a word a new and un-
expected application. Parody, as, for instance, that on
the "Burial of Sir John Moore," entertains us because
we are ever comparing the parody with the oidginal
piece and noting their incongruity. An incident which
would in no way affect us in ordinary circumstances will
often raise irrepressible laughter in solemn or sacred
positions. A very small event occurring in a church
will raise a titter, while the same occurrence happening
outside would never be noticed. The only way of secur-
ing the return of composure in such cases is to allow tlie
laugh to get its proper utterance and to return to onr
proper business immediately after. I have seen a minis-
ter and a thousHud grave people greatly discomposed by
a little bifd coming into a church and hopping from pew
to pew, and pew to pulpit, with a solemn beadle chasing
it and ever failing to catch it ; the same bird hopping
outside would have raised no such laughter. It is owing
to the circumstance that wit arises from the percejjtiuii
of incongruity that it is so easy to raise laughter by a
familiar or low treatment of sacred subjects. All such
wit has in it the essence of profanity, and should be in-
Itantly restrained. Laughter ia raised when a mighty
cause produces a weak effect, when great pretension

issues in utter failure, wben loud boasting ends in a
public humiliation. K»nt speaks of the ridiculous being
called forth by the sudden transformation of a tense ex-
pectatioa into nothing.

It may be doubted whether philosophers have suc-
ceeded in giving a thoroughly adequate definition of wit,
but there is a preacher who once succeeded, in the pulpit,
in giving a perfect description of it, though I do not see
how he could have done so without exciting the laughter
ii8 well as the admiration of his congregation. The fol-
lowing, from one of Isaac Barrow's sermons, is, in respect
both of thought and langu:ige, one of the most compre-
hensive passages in the English language : " First it
may be demanded what the thing we speak of is, or what
this facetiousness doth import. To which question I
might reply aa Democritua did to him who asked the def-
inition of a man. 'T is that which we all see and know;
any one better apprehends what it is by acquaintance
than I can inform him by description. It is indeed a
tiling so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many
shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, so variously
apprehended by several eyes and judgments, that it
eeemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain notion
thereof than to make a portrait of Proteus, or to define
the figure of the fleeting air. Sometimes it lieth in pat
allusion to a known story, or in seasonable application of
a trivial saying, or in forging an apposite tale ; sometimes
it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage from
the ambiguity of their sense, or the affinity of their
sound; sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of humorous
f.xpression ; sometimes it lurketh under an odd simili-
tude ; sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart
answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in
cunningly diverting or cleverly retorting an objection

■^ ^

TEE LUDICBOUS.

18T

Bometimea it is couched in a bold scbeme of Bpeech, in a
tart irony, in a. lusty hyperbole, in a starLling metaphor,
in a plausible recoiieiling of contradictious, or in acute
nonsense; sometimes a sceniciil representation of persona
or things, a counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture
paaseth for it; sometimes an affected simplicity, some-
times a presumptuous bluntneas giveth it being ; some-
times it riseth only from a lucky hitting upon what is
strange, sometimes from a crafty wresting obvious mat-
ter to the purpose ; often it conaiateth in one knows not
what, and spriiigetli up one can hardly tell how. Its
ways are uuaccouutahle and inexplicable, being answer-
able to the numberless rovings of fancy and windings of
language. It is, in short, a manner o£ speaking out
of the simple and plaiu way (such as reason teacheth
and proveth things by), which, by a pretty surprising
uncouthness in conceit or expression, doth affect and
amuae the fancy, stirring in it some wonder, and breed-
ing some delight thereto. It raiseth admiration, as sig-
nifying a nimble sagacity of apprehension, a special
felicity of invention, a vivacity of spirit, and reach of wit
more than vulgar ; it seeming to argue a rare quickness
of parta, that one can fetch in remote conceits applicable ;
a notable skill, that he can dexterously accommodate
them to the purpose before him; together with a lively
briskness of humor not apt to damp those sportful flashes
of imagination." ^

' Will anj one after reading this passage allow thai all these exeiciBea
of mincl can be accounted for b; a nervona euecgj 1 S|iencer iLccaunts for
ihe Icidicrons thus ; " A Urge amomit of nervous auergy, iusLHnil uf being
allowed to ex pond itself \o producing an equivalent aiDount of the uew
thonghtfl and emotions, which are nascent, ip sudilcnly checked in its flow."
" The excess masC discharge itself in some other direction, and tliere re-
snlla an afflnx throogh the motor nerves Co various clasttes of the tnuacles,
vrodocing the half-convnlsive actions we term laughtec." Uaio. Prog.

188 ^STHETICa.

Every one perceives that there is a difference between
wit and humor. Ciin the difference be pointed out and
expressed ? I believe that it can. Both arise from per-
ceived incongriiitiea, but in the case of humor the incon-
gruity has some relation to human character, whereas
wit may arise from incongruities in thought, in word, in
action. In huutor we find, or place, or conceive persons
in ridiculous situations or attitudes. Humor, therefore,
implies some appreciation of human feeling. Hence it
is that humor, however strange it may seem, is very com-
monly associated with sympathy. Jt was remarked by
Sir Walter Scott of Robert Burns, when he appeared in
Edinburgh, that in his conversation there was a strange
combination of pathos and humor. I am sure that these
two often go together, humor and sympathy. The man
who never laughs, or who cannot laugh heartily, I sus-
pect ia deficient in tenderness of heart, while he may be
characterized by many virtues. Certain it is that in the
writings of many of our great authors pathos and humor
are found in the closest connection. 1 believe that the
fountains of smiles and tears lie nearer each other than
most people imagine.

" We haveeeen tlint the muacles wbich operate apon the month are
distinguishable into two classes, — those whith surround and control
Ihe lips, and tliose which oppose them, and draw the mouth wiUely
open. The effect of a ludicrous idea is to relax the former, and to
contract the latter; hence, by a lateral stretching of the mouth, and
a raising of the cheek to the lower eyelid, a gmile is produced. Tliu
lipa are, of all the features, the most susceptihle of action, and tlie
most direct index of the feelings. If the idea be exceedingly ridicu^
liiuB, it is in vain that we endeavor to restrain this relaxation, and
to eompresa the lips. The muscles concentring to the mouth pre-
tail; they become more and more influenced; they retract the lips,
and display the teeth. The cheeks are more powerfully drawn up,
the eyes wrinkled, and the eye almost concealed. The lachrymal
gland within the orbit is compressed by the pressure on the eyeball.

THE SUBLIME. 189

d llie eye ia Roffused with tears." (Bell, Esiay vi.) " During ex-
csBsive laughter the whole body ia often thrown backward ant] shakes,
or IB almoBt convulsed ; the respiration is much disturbed ; the bead
and face beuome gorged with blood, with the veina distended; and
the orbicular muscles are spasmodically contracted in ordur to protect
the ayes. Tears are freely shed. Hence, as formerly remarked, it
is auarcely possible to point out an)' diflert^nce between tlie tear-
stained face of a person after a paroxysm of excessive laughter and
after a bitter crying fit. It is probably due to the close simihirity of
the spasmodic movements caui>ed by these wiilely different emotiona
that hysteric patients alternately cry and lau^h with violence, and
that young children sometimes pass suddenly from the one to tlie
other state." (Darwin, c. viii.} " When the angles of the mouth are
deprcFsed in grief the eyebrows are not elevated at the outitr angles
as in laughter. When a smile plays around the mouth, or the cheek
is raise<l in laughter, the brows are not rufBed as in grief." (Bell,
Essay vi.)

SECTION XI.

Every one feels that the sentiment of the sublime
differs from that of the beautiful. The one pleases aiid
delights, the other overawes and yet elevates.

It seems to me that whatever tends to carry away the
mind into the Infinite raises that idea and feeling which
are called the sublime. The idea embraces two elements,
or, ratlier, has two sides. First the infinite is conceived
as something beyond our largest phantasm, that is, image,
and beyond our widest concept or general notion. We
exert our imiiging and conceiving power to the utmost ;
but as we do so we are led to perceive that there is vastly
more beyond. Whatever calls forth this exercise is sub-
lime, that is, excites that special feeling which we have
all experienced, and which we call sublime.

It is not all that I see of the British that so impresses
me, said Hyder AU, but what I do not see, the power
beyond the seas, the power in reserve. It was his belief

190 ESTHETICS.

ia a power beyond, in a power unseen, whicli so struck
the mind of the Mahratta chief. The feeling of sublimity
is always called forth in this way, that is, by whatever
fills its imaging power and yet suggests Bumetliing far-
ther, aometbing greater and higher. A great height,
such as a great mountain, Mont Bhinc, Monte Rosa,
Cbimborazo, raises the idea, and with it the correspond-
ing feeling. The discoveries of astronomy stir up the
emotion, because they carry the mind into the immeas-
urable depths of space while yet we feel that we are not
at its verge. The discoveries of geology exatt the mind
in much the same "way, by the long vistas opened of ages
of which we cannot delect the beginning. Every vast
display of power calls forth the over.iwing sentiment ; we
notice agencies wliich are great, arguing a power which
ia gi'eater. It ia thus that we are moved by the howl of
the tempest and the raging of the sea, both, it may be,
producing terrible havoc, in the prostration of the trees
of the forest or in the wreck of vessels. The roar of the
water-fall, the musical crash of the avalanche, the mut-
tering and the prolonged growl of the thunder, the sudden
shaking of the stable ground when the earth quakes, all
these fill our minds, in our endeavor to realize them, and
raise apprehension of unknown effects to follow. The
forked lightning raises the thought of a bolt shot by an
almighty hand. Thick masses of cloud or of darkness
may become sublime by suggesting depths which we
cannot sound. The vault of heaven is always a graud
object when serene ; as we look into it we feel that we
are looking into the boundless. A clear, bright space in
the sky, whether in a natural scene or in a painting, is
an outlet, by which the mind may go out into the limit-
less. We are exhilarated by the streaks of light in the
morning sky, partly, no doubt, from the associated hope

THE SUBLIME. 191

of the coming day, but atill more because of the suggested
region beyond, from which the Iiimimiry of day comes.
I explain in much the same way the feeling of grundeur
awakened by the aun setting in splendor in the eveuing
sky, our souls go after him into the region to which he
is going. In much the same way there is always a pro-
found feehng of awe associated with the aerioua contem-
plation of the death of a fellow man ; it is, if we view
it aright, the departure of a soul into an uueuding eter-
nity.

There are atill grander Bcenes presented in the moral
world, raising the feeling of subUmity, because ruveal-
ing an immense power and auggeating an immeasurable
power. We are affected with a feeling of wonder and
awe when we contemplate Abraham lifting the knife
to alay hia aou, and the old Koman delivering his sou to
death because guilty of a crime; we think of, and yet
caunot estimate, the strong moral purpose needed to over-
come the natural affection which was burning all the
while in the bosoma of the fathers. The commander
burning his ships that he may have no retreat, tells of a
will and a purpose which cannot be conquered. We feel
overawed, and yet exalted, whfn we read of the Holland-
era being ready to open the sluices which guard their
country and let in the ocean to overflood it, and of the
Russians setting fire to their capital, rather than have
their hberties trampled on. Who can read the account
in Phito'a "Phtedo" of the death of Socrates without say-
ing, How grand, how sublime I and we do so because we
would estimate, and yet cannot estimate, the grand pur-
pose which enabled him to refain such composure amidst
scenes so much fitted to agitate and to overwhehn, Hia-
tory discloses a yet more sublime scene in Jesua, patient
and benignant tinder the fearful and mysterioua load hiid

192 ESTHETICS.

upon Him. " Socrates died aa a hero, but Jesus Christ
died aa a. God."

But tliei'e is a second element in infinity. It is such
that nothing can be added to it, and nothing takun from
it ; in other words, incupablu of augmentation or diminu-
tion. Under thia aspect it is the Perfect. As an exam-
ple we have " the law of the Lord, which is perfect."
Kant's language has often been quoted, as to the two
things which impressed him with subUmity, the starry
heavens and the law of God. If Kaut had ever seen the
ocean he would have added it to the others, because of
its extending beyond our vialon. But neither the starry
heavens nor the expanded ocean present both aspects of
infinity, which are combined in only one object, and that
is God, all whose attributes are perfections, which as we
attempt to compass tliem we are lost, because of the in-
finitude of Him who is " high throned above all height."

SECTION xn.

T IN NATURAL OBJECTS.

Every object in nature, every man and woman, every
scene, bare sand or stagnant marsh, is not to be re-
garded as beautiful. It is in the midst of the common-
place that interesting objects come forth to please us,
Iiere and there, and everywhere. Let us look at those
natural scenes which are entitled to be regarded as beau-
tiful, picturesque, or sublime.

In the grassy slope, in the rich plain waving with
grain, there is first a pleasant sensation and then the idea
is raised of plenty, of fertility, and of the comfort of liv-
ing beings ; and we are inclined to stand still, or sit down,
and contemplate it, allowing the thoughts to fiow on
complacently. We like to see a road through it, not

BEAUTY IN NATURAL OBJECTS. 198

straight, but winding, suggesting that one might follow
it at bis own free or, if he list, capricious will. In river
scenery the flowing of the atreum, the eheen and spark-
ling of the waters, give the idea of action and of life.
The pi(;tiire may be greatly enlivened by the peliucidnesa
of the water, by the purling and leaping of the streams,
as in the hill country of Scotland and New England, or
by retired bays and wooded islets in the great Ameri-
can rivers. In the broad stream or ocean bay, as, for in-
ntance, in the St. Lawrence, there is often a great beauty
in the flitting lights and shadows, in the beama lying
visibly on the waters, and in the varying colore, silvern
and gulden, of the surface, and the iphole rendered more
picturesque by the white sail moving across it. The sky,
when clear, and of its own blue color, ia always lovely ;
it is a sheltering canopy over us. The clouda hang over
our world like drapery, and interest us by their levity,
by their movableness, by their varied shapes or colors,
often aplendidlyin harmony, aadividing the beam between
them. These same clonds may awe us aa in thick
masses they forebode tempests, crashing and destructive.
As the Bun sets there is often a pleasant glow, and the
scene is associated in our minds with rest after labor, re-
pose after a journey, and his retinue of clouds, so richly
dressed, raises the thought of splendor and magnificence,
and our sonl goes after him when he sinks, as it goes
after the dying Christian into the better world.

In the quiet valley, especially when, as in Switzerland,
il is defended by lofty mountiiina, the feeling is of rest,
protection, security from danger, peace without, emblem
of peace within. Much the same sentiment is called
forth as an echo by the sweet lake, like Loch Katrine,
Bleeping in the raidat of guardian rocks. The bold, hard
rock which has withatood the elements for a thousand

194 i:sTeETics.

yeavs, and ia as defiant as ever, 19 associated with endur-
ance and pcnver of resistance, like the man of strong
moral piirpuse who has withstood the winds and waves
of temptiLtion and the attacks of foes. The scars upon
its face, like those of the warrior received in battle, the
water-worn channels, the torn detritus at its base, all go
to raise the idea and deepen the feeling. The tiristed
structure shows what torture it has come through, and
yet been preserved. The ravine is the evident result of
aome terrible disruption of nature, and looks like a mys-
terious hiding-place provided for a refuge. The preci-
pice gives the idea of height unapproachable and the
danger of falling into the depth below, from which, how-
ever, we are safe because of our position ; if we are not,
the sublimity vanishes in the sense of fear. An inspiring
interest is often awakened by the way being seemingly
shut in by forbidding heights, which, however, open as we
advance, and exciting our curiosity as to what is to be
disclosed. In the same way the mountain pass allures
us on by promising the view of a region beyond, which
seemed to be shut out from us. In river rapids the idea
is of impelling force, and of the cataract of awful and ir-
resistible power and determination, as exhibited, for in-
stance, in, what seems to me the most impressive point at
the Niagara Falls, the terrible rush towards the ledge is-
suing in the inevitable fall. The breaking of the cold
and ice of winter in the freshet, and the rush and thii
boiling of tlie relieved waters, is symbolic of the bursting
forth of the caged spirit into freedom and action.

Beauty of Treei. A boy gets hold of a fir cone ; he
reckons it a prize and feels a pleasure in contemplating
it. He cannot tell how it should interest him, but the
scientific man should be able to say. He handles it and
turns it round and round, and preserves it among his toys.

BEAUTY IN NATURAL OBJECTS. 195

and brings it out from time to time to gaze on it. The
Ecientifia observer mny easily notice that around its sur-
face are two sets of spiral wiiorls, one going to the right
and the other to the left, each to carry the eye round the
cone, and th;it they cross each other and produce regular
rhnmboidal figures, which differ in each species of plant.
Tine boy does not observe all this, but he is impressed
with thti general i-egularity, and with the speeinl forms,
with the unity and variety, and with the proportions and
har.Tiony, and an incipient Eesthetic feeling is started.

The order seen so easily and clearly in the fir cone
also appears, though less obviously and with greater com-
plexity, on the tree, and is meant to be noticed by full-
grown boys. Every fir-tree, indeed every coniferous
plant, tends to take a definite form, and that form is the
same as that of its cone, that is, conical, with the branches
lengthening till they produce a graceful swell and then
shortening till they come to a point. The carefully ob-
servant eye will notice that the leaves go rouud the stem
and the branches round the trunk, as the scales do round
the cones, in two seta of spirals crossing each other. But
in order to our being impressed with the beauty of the
tree it is not necessary to notice all this scientifically, it
is enough that we have a general perception of the har-
mony.

Coming now to the leafy trees we will at once notice
that every tree bears a leaf after its kind ; and you caD-
not by any artifice make any tree bear a leaf of a differ-
ent kind, — make an elm bear the leaf oE an oak. All
these have a beauty of some kind, a graceful curvature of
outline, and a correspondence of side to side, even when
the two sides are not alike, there being a counterpoise to
the inequality. Then it can be shown that every tree is
>ipt, if not interfered with, to take the form of its leaf.

Ifl6 .ssTirETicg.

Thus some lenves liave leaf stalks shorter or longer
while others have none ; and it will be found that the
trees on which the first class grow have an unbranobed
trunk shorter or longor, whereas the othera have none,
but are bushy from the base. It can be shown that the
«ngle at which the briinches go off from the stems is the
same as that at which the veins go off from the leaf, ami
that the curvilinear outline of the tree and of eveiy
branch is much the same as that of the leaf. I mention
these things to show that there is an observable order in
the shape and structure of every tree, in the arrangement
of its branches and its contour, which at once impreaaes
the observer, and calls forth an impression which de-
serves to be called sesthetic. A normally formed tree in
winter covered with frostwork, and with the outline fully
exposed, is felt by all to be a beautiful object. The exact
order is not so observable in the tree in summer because
of the leafy covering; still it strikes us insensibly without
our being able to detect the elements, and the graceful
covering of foliage is felt to be its crowning ornament.
It is to be allowed that while every tree takes its special
form this may be interfered with in a number of ways, —
by its being crowded by other trees, by its being bent or
broken by the wind, eaten by animals, or cut untastefuUy
by men. Still it shows its native tendency even when it
is obstructed, and it is beautiful as a tree when it is left
to grow into its natural shape. The beauty of the tree
may be much embellished by its blossoms in spring and
its fruit in autumn, adding beauty of coloring to beauty
of outline.

Even where it is not an artificial — which is a false —
taste, there is far too little attention paid in most of our
parks or demesnes to the planting of trees so as to show
their full amount oE beauty. Every tree in a lawn should

BEAUTY IN NATtmAL OBJECTS. 197

be placed sufficiently far apart from every other to show
its Beparate form, and allow the eye to repose on the lawn
between. In a large park trees of every shape should
have a place: some tall and some short, some tapering
others swelling, some rising up high and straight and
pointing to the sky, others wide spreading and bending
over the earth to shelter us from exposure to heat or storm,
and furnishing a quiet retreat for meditation ; some with
a pale, othei's with a dark green color, all arranged with
such uniformity as to show it has been effected by art
though not by artifice. And whenever a tree appears of
an abnormal shape, made by brute or by man, or by a
neighboring tree through our neglect being allowed to
restrain it, let it be mercilessly cut down, except, indeed,
it be a gnarled oak, or an elm scathed by lightning, or a
branch broken by the tempest, when it should certainly
be allowed to remain as an indication of the strife which
it has come through. We are not to understand from
what has been said that there is beauty only in regular-
ity ; where there is only uniformity there is no beauty.
The eye is not offended vfhen it sees the tree somewhat
bent with the wind or by gravity. The gnarled oak
looks like a man of independence and firmness, who has
had hia character formed by the resistance he baa offered
to evil. Let us preserve Wordsworth's Yew-tree where

" Each particular trimt 'b n growth
Of iniertwined fibres Berpentine,
Up coEling Bod inTeterately convolTcd,
Nor nninforaied wUh PhaDt4sj'B looks,
That threaten Che profane."

A different kind of beauty is secured by the clump of
trees, where we have the trunks standing side by side, like
the soldiers in an army, and the branches, like friends, in-
termingling with each other, and all to famish defense
and shelter.

198 ESTHETICS.

"And ye &re Mrong to shelter. All meek thingi.

All that need home nnd corert, love jour ehode,

BirdK of ehv song, uid low-voiced qiiiet ihingi.

And nOD-like rioleis bj the wind beCrajed."

The wide extended forest baa all tbeae elements at
beauty and it has many more ; it raises an idea of tbe
exuberance of nature and of immensity. As we wander
in it we have to find our way among difficulties, and we
are rewarded by the graceful or grotesque forms casting
up on the right hand and tbe left, and find a pleasure in
penetrating into tbe gloom and losing ourselves there.
But the interest is immeasurably increased when we fall
in here and there with glades into which air and sunshine
are let for our relief, and dells into which no human
interniption can intrude, where we feel as if we heard
the silence which is broken only by the cry of tbe startled
bird and the rushing of the deer.

Mountains. These, as we look up to tbem, elevate the
mind as well as tbe eye. Some cannot gaze on a mount-
ain top without an almost irrepressible ambition to
ascend it. As we mount we are ever turning round to
get glimpses of the scene below, and when we reach the
summit we do not care to repress the inclination to shout.
How interesting now to look round and behold the
brotherhood of mountains and the multitudinous hills,
each standing boldly in its place and eager to show its
special shape and maintain its position 1 We are awed
ii8 we look down the precipices, and yet we feel all the
while how stable these rocks on which we stand are, and
bow deep their foundations. We peer into tbe crevices
wondering what is concealed in them, and penetrate the
ravines not knowing what we may meet with. We fol-
low the windings of tbe valleys as tbey sweep down, each
one gathering a stream to form a river. How pleasant

BEAUTV IN NATURAL OBJECTS.

199

to notice the pliiins below, and the scattered dwellings,
evidently with living men and women within them.
The dwellers in mountain regions have a more vivid re-
membrance of their country than those who have been
brought up in commonplace plains, think of it more
frequently, and have a greater desire to return to it.
Tlie shepherds, such as those of ancient Judea and of
Scotland, are often addicted to reflection. The hunters
have a spirit of enterprise called forth by their employ-
ments. Mountain tops are felt to be places for adora-
tion : God's law is fitly proclaimed there, and He comes
down there to meet with the worshipers.

Waterfalls. If yon visit a waterfall do it leisurely
that association of ideas may have full play. It is usu-
ally in a broken, wild scene, and we may let our thoughts
run wild, as a boy let loose on a holiday excursion. We
hear ths roar of the falling water : let it guide ns. The
first view of the scene gives us the idea of a mysterious
convulsion which has taken place, we know not how or
when, but of which we see the effects indicating vast
power. Let us approach the cataract from below that
it may overawe us. But in surveying it minutely let ns
go at once fo where it is rushing on to its destination,
and let us observe it taking the leap so determinedly —
as if it must take it, as if it took it with a purpose, and
mark that as It does so it glories in its courage and
strength. We may then survey it from beneath. We
see that it thrashes on the rock with a power which we
cannot resist, and vainly try to estima.te. Having per-
formed its feat you observe how it calms itself in the pool
it has formed, and then glides away so peacefully. You
now look up and around. The scene is horrific, but it is
relieved by scenes of beauty, by the spray sparkling in
the sunshine, or gilded by the rainbow colors, and by

200 j:stiietics.

these flowera and ferns getting nourisbment in the o
ices and fnrniBliing drapery of exquisite beauty. Ws
may now ait down, and we feel secure as we sea the
wliole guarded by these turreted towers evidently set as
buttlemerits to defend it, and we allow our thoughts to
run on, and as they do so fill the mind with ideas of
power and feelings of wonder.

The Ocean as seen from the shore is characterized by
reetleasness ; " it cannot rest." It is in perpetual motion,
and CHsts forth as wrecks the objects that have intruded
Into its domain. As we sail upon it we are impressed
with its immensity. At times it is the very image of rest
and placidity. Yet we feel that it may awake at any
time from its slumbers and raise its mountain waves to
overwhelm, and show ita yawning gulfs to swallow us.
It has its beauties in the dark hue of its deep, and the
cerulean of its shallow waters, in its crested foam and ita
spray. It has an infinite variety in its moods and in its
expressions, as now it plays and smiles and laughs, and
again is dark and sullen, angry and chafing. We are
constrained to look upon it with a feeling of awe. The
ideas it raises are of boundlessness and irresistible power,
rousing the feeling of the sublime from the lowest depth
of our nature.

The Human Frame. The highest style of beauty is to
be found in man and woman. A beauty may be dis-
cerned in the forms of the human body, in its symmetry,
its proportions, in its angles, and in its curves. There
are tints and hues which are felt to be pleasant by the
optic organism. But these are, after all, the lowest ele-
ments in the beauty of the human frame. There may
be a grace in the attitude assumed, in the walk, and in
the manner. But the highest Eesthetic power is to be
Eound in the Expression. This may be seen in the mo

SCENERY OF DIFFERENT COUNTBIES.

201

tion and action, as showing activity, life, and strength.
But it is displayed moat fully in the countenance, as in-
dicating mind or disposition, as indicating force or reso-
hition, or refinement, or inteUigence, or fire, or spirit, or
gentleness and love. We gaze on certain counteoanceB
with delight, and feel as if we could gaze on them for-
ever. The beauty appreciated will depend on the men-
tal association of the race, the country, or the individual.
The beauty of the Negro or the Indian will not be re-
garded so favorably by the white man. There is truth
in the idea of Sir Charles Bell, that the typical form of a
race is the model beauty iu the estimation of that i-ace.
In all caees the emotion is made more intense when the
tender piission suffuses through the whole. In many
caseB there may be no inward disposition corresponding
to the outward signs as we have interpreted them. " Fair
but false " has been the complaint of lovers in all agea.
Still we cannot thereby be rid of the association even
though we know on reflection that there is no moral
quality ; we still look with admiring interest on that
countenance which is so full of mirth, joyousness, quick-
ness, love, or t

SECTION xiir.

It may be interesting to close the general subject of
the EBsthetic emotions by showing how the beautiful, the
picturesque, and sublime are exhibited in the well-
known scenery of different countries. To begin with
England. Well may she be called " Merry England."
No country that I have seen eshibita such pictures of
plenty and peace as she does in her wide-extended, fer-
tile, and well-cultivated p'lains, her fields clothed with

202 iSSTHEtlCS.

Iiedgerows and scattered trees, and dotted all over with
Wfll-fed kiiie, which need only to bend their necks to
find the herbage ready to meet them, and rivera winding
tiiroitgh the midst of them, and lively villages vrith
village churches on either bank. She is preeminent for
tliat kind of beauty produced by associatioD, that is, by a
prolonged train oE thought and feeling raised by the
happiness of the scene. She has also spota of great at-
tractiveness in the creeks and bays of the sea that girds
lier, and the loveliest of hikes embosomed among the
green hills of Cumberland and Westmoreland. But
very much of her fair surface is blackened by the amoke
of factories which yield bo much of her we.tlth. Ex-
cept in the wild rocks on the coasts of Devonshire and
Cornwall, and in the grand mountains and rocks of Wales,
she has little that may be called sublime.

The Lowlands of Scotland are characterized by their
improved agriculture, but have everywhere clear and
sweetly-flowing streams, such as the Doon, the Ayr, and
the Irvine, mentioned so often by Burns, and the Tweed
and Teviot, the favorites of Scott, and their sweeps form-
ing dells and holms of romantic beauty. Much of the
Highlands of Scotland is simply wild ; but aa you travel
on you meet with leaping and buoyant rivers and charm-
ing secluded lochs, or gaze on the shining faces of broad
lakes, [guarded by craggy hills and lofty mountains, apt
to be a little too rounded at the top, but with horrid
ravines intersecting them in Arran and in Skye. Trav-
elers from other countries when they visit Scotland
filnuld choose the month from the first week in August
to the fiist week in September, when the heather is in
bloom and throws a glow of beauty over the wildness
9,nd the grandeur.

Much of Ireland is bare and uninteresting, owing to

SCESEKY OP DIFFERENT COUNTRIES. 203

the extent of what was or is " bog " country ; but every-
where you Bee h soft green of grass, or of leafage, which
cheei'B and enlivens the soul. County Antrim, us a
whole, 13 tame and bare, but then it is girdled by a coast
marked by the picturesque and sublime ; these I reckon
the distinguishing characteristics of Fair Head and the
Pleskins, though when the sea is smooth and the sun-
shine is playing on it, there is among these creeks which
indent among the rocks a romantic loveliness to relieve
the savage character of the horrid precipices. The vales
farther south in Ireland, such as those of Wicklow and
tlie Golden Valley, have been admired by all travelers
of taste, because of their fine sweep and their sweetness.
In the Western Coast there are bays in which one could
wish to linger for days or weeks, with awful gullies pene-
trating to great depths, and wild mountains with pictur-
esque and imposing forms.

Crossing the channel we find France, as a whole, rather
flat and tame. But in all parts of it there are rivers
Tolling along magnificently with fruit trees and vine-
yards, with smiling villages and old historic towns, on
either bank. In the south and west it haa magnificent
bays, and in the Pyrenees mountains worthy of stand-
ing alongside of the Alps. North Germany, for hundreds
of miles, is one flat plain with scarcely an eminence in it ;
and after living in it for a time I hterally shouted when
on leaving it I came in sight of the Saxon Switzerland.
That country and the Hartz Mountains show us toi^ering
heights of a most singular shape, which look as if they
were the workmanship and the abode of goblins, and the
German students relieve the severity of their studies by
forming companies, and taking summer excursions among
these romantic grandeurs. German)', too, has her grandly
•weeping rivers, such as the Elbe, the Rhine, and the

|Li_

204 .ESTHETICS.

Danube, with lovely hills and hoarj castles and terraced
viiiejarda on tlieir banks.

For pure beauty Italy is unsurpasBed, perhaps nne-
qualed. Her pure atmnaphere, through which everything
looks resplendent, her bills covered with umbrageous trees,
her arcliilectural cities with their magnificent churches
and palaees, the treasures of art contained in them, and,
above all, ber sunny bays, together coustitube a scene of
loveliness from which there is nothing to detract. Lake
Corao, as it amilea in the sunshine, with its borders cov-
ered witli the richest fruit and gmin and trees, and over-
topped with snow-covered mountains, has always appeared
to mo to be the perfection of beauty. But for scenery
which calls forth all the aesthetic feelings we must look to
Switzerland, which attracts all people because everyone
finds there something fitted to gratify his higher nature.
As we travel through it we know not whether to admire
moat its valleys of softest green variegated by flowers of
every hue, or its resplendent glaciers filiing its hollows,
or its horrid precipices from which we look down tremb-
lingly into the yawning gulf below, or its snow-capped
mountains mingling with the sky and reflecting the light
of heaven. Every deep feeling is moved as we gaze on
the huge bulk of the Jungfrau with its deep guUies, as
we listen to the sound of the avalanche with its voice
like thunder mingled with tinkling music, or as we sail
on the placid bosom of Lake Lucerne, and look up with
awe on the overhanging mountains of ice and snow.

If we now cross the broad Atlantic we meet with
grandeur and beauties of a new type which make us feel
that we are in a new world, which yet we recognize aa
ihe same with the old. The natural scenes have there a
vastneaa which they cannot have in the more confined or
cultivated countries of Europe ; and as we float down

SCENERY OF DIFFERENT COUKTEIES. 205

their miglity rivers, or wander in their interminable
forests, or giize on their waterfalls, or sail on their vast
lakes, or scamper over their prairies, we have a feeling of
extent and freedom and boundlessness which borders on
the sublime. The eastern sea-board, as a whole, lacka
character, thongh there are pleasant eminences and scat-
tered foresta and broad rivers within accessible reach of
the great cities, and all along the coast there are lovely
bays guarded by rough and, in some spots, picturesque
rocks, as at Newport and along the New England shores.
When you penetrate farther in you may meet with both
grandeurs and beauties. Many of her rivers have too
much of the clay of the soil floating in them, but in the
mountain countries of New England, especially in Ver-
mont, you have as fresh and leaping streams as those of
Scotland. The Green Mountains, the Franconiiin, and
the White Mountains are equal to any mountains in
Europe, the Alps being always excepted; and there are
hills and valleys half-way between mountain and dale,
as at Lenox, alluring us not only to visit them, but to
dwell in them, as being places where you have visible
peace and yet variety. The extensive Alleghany range,
stretching far south to Virginia and North Carolina, is
made rich by its clothing of boundless green forest, and
by the long vales running parallel to it, at a lower level,
or running off from it, also wooded, but with cultivated
grain and human haliil-alions creeping up into it,

The Hudson valley, beginning with its villas and green
slopes, and, as you ascend, disclosing the Highlands, the
Shawangunk mountains, and the Catskills, is, with its
windings and recesses, as beautiful as the Rhine. Within
an accessible distance you have the Adirondacks with its
enjoyable wildness ; in one region bold and free mount-
ains, and in the other pleasant lakes and streams em-

206 ESTHETICS.

boBomed id impenetrable ForesUi ; and in all places bare

and stubborn rocltB facing the sky, and ready to encounter
the storms now as tbey have done for unnumbered tigee,
The FiiUs of Niagara when firat seen at a distance are
diaiippointing ; they look dumpy from an excess of
breiidtb when compared with their height; but as you
go above them, and follow the magnificent river hurry-
ing down these rapids with such determination to its
full, and when you go below, and mark the irresistible
[plunge of waters and the mysterious gloom, you are
made to feel that they have a grandeur and sublimity
far transcending your highest expectations, and the feel-
ing is not lessened but is enlivened when the sun shines
out, and calls forth a beauty in the rainbow hue of the
Hpray. The great lakes of America are like seaa, and
have not the sublimity of the ocean, but it is delightful
to sail for days upon their fresh waters, and acquire
health from their breezes. The smaller hut still large
lakes, such as the Winnipiseogee, and Champlain, and,
above all Lake George, have, beside their broad sheeta of
water, lovely bays and delightsome wooded islands in
which one would wish to dwell all the sunshine summer;
and they lie among lofty mountains adorned with the
richest leafage,

The region beyond the Alleghany range for hundreds
of miles is flat, and its rivers are sluggish, but then it is
rich and pleasantly wooded, and its streams have often
cut out picturesque banks. It is a most delightful feel-
ing which one experiences in floating for days on the
Upper Mississippi, round lovely wooded islands, or bold
pr-jmontoiies which look at first as if they would bar all
progress, and showing openings only as we put trust in
them and advance, and all along between lofty and in
many places precipitous banks hundreds of feet in height,

THE FINE ABTS. 207

with j«^ed ledge covered with fresh green grass, or
more frequently by dense forest, at times coming down
CO the river's edge, ^nd at times receding miles away,
opening giena of singular beauty, or letting in the dark
waters of rivers famed in Indian story. The prairies
with their ocean of green verdure in May enlivened by
wild flowera are exquisitely lovely, and I enjoyed them
eKceesively in a visit to Iowa ; but I confess I should not
like to live all my days in the finest of them, which
would come to be monotonous with nothing but the
green level below and the blue concave above.

SECTION XIV.

Music: 1 have asserted that the Eeathetic feeling often
begins with a pleasant sensation, which by its regularity
sets the mind working, and raises a train of thought,
particularly of harmony, and this conducts to ideas of
activity, life, and soul, gendering the sentiment. Music
furnishes a good example. It is fett first as an elysian
sensation, but is appreciated mainly because of the series
of ideas which it excites. The words are, or ought to be,
the expression of the ideas which the music would natu-
rally excite, and when there are no words audible our
musicians can interpret the sounds in their own way.

Arehitecture. I am inclined to think that there may
be some mathematical law uf the vibrations producing an
organic impression which rouaea the intellect to notice ia
a vague way, in the first instance, and afterwards in a
more precise way, the proportions of the building which
are seen to indicate skill, design, purpose. The atten-
tion being called and intelligence awakened, a series and
succession of proportions and adaptations and uses are

2U8 JiSTHETICS,

discovered, calling forth appropriate feelings, and it may
be accompanying asHociations, carried on aa long as the
building is under the view. Ah a negative condition it
is necessary that tliere should not be presented in. any
part uselessnesa, which is folly, disproportion, unsym-
metrical aides, unbalanced appendages, heavy parts un-
Bustained, bulky columns which support nothing, weak
foundations, overwhelming crushing roofs; for these
would diatui'b the proper flow of the ideas and feelings.
But then it is necessary that there should be positive ex-
celiences in skillful arrangements, and in ideas expressed
in stone, elevating the mind to high contemplation.
The elements of strength, massiveness, resistance, endur-
ance, Btabihty, may all have their place fittingly in archi-
tecture, by raising deep ideas, as may also shade and re-
treat and protection. But in other buildings, we are
more pleased to see lightness, airiness, pointedneas, heav-
enwardness. Of a still higher order are those buildings
which show us curves of great sweep, and go out as it
were into infinity. In Grecian architecture the idea is
solidity, shelter, covering, cool shade, with elegant pro-
portions on which we fondly gaze. In the Gothic cathe-
dral it is sweep, avenues, like those of trees, towering
sky- ward and with heavenly tendency. In the old
English architecture it is home, peace, comfort, with life
and variety and affection,

Sculpture. The essential idea is form and expression,
of the man or woman if it be a copy, or of the thoughts
and feelings of the personage represented if the figure
be ideal, whether of contentment, placidity, curiosity,
anxiety, of hope, joy, or love, or may be determination,
eagerness, courage, ambition, jealousy, hatred, and re-
venge. These must be marked by the posture of the
body, or they must beam or flash or scowl from the ex-

THE FINE ARTS 209

preBsion o£ the coimtenanee. When there is a group,
there must be a unity \o the variety, a central form to
which all eyes turn with approbation or disapprobation,
with a common sentiment, but with diversities of char-
acter and aims.

Landscape Gardenivg. We now hate to see trees
clipped into the forms of beasts or birds or any other
artificial shape; we shrink from rectilinear Dutch walka
hemmed in by hedges, we doubt even of Italian statues
of mythological persons, as somehow not in their proper
place (at least when winter cornea they should be shel-
tered in a building) ; and we love to have curves and
sweeps, and paths that may ever lead into something
new, and glimpses of distant objects, and vistas that
seem to have no end. There should be trees of various
kinds ani^ shapes, planted at a respectful distance from
each other, and each showing its separate form and char-
jioter. There should also be clumps of trees for shelter,
and to show their leafage. In flower gardening we strive
to have beds of varied forms, suggestive of fertility and
invention, and flowers of harmonious colors growing
alongside of each, to quicken our sensitive power. But
care must be taken in imitating the variety of nature to
conceal the imitation ; here as in poetry, artis est celart
artem. In many modern gardens there are so many arti-
fices in ingenious cut beds, and meaningless dells, that we
turn away from the pretty conceits with a feeling of irre-
pressible contempt.

Landscape Painting. Here, the first thing is to have
a verisimilitude of the aetual or possible scene. We are
offended when called to look on a sky which, though
beautiful in itself, is unlike anything we have seen in
nature. But the painting will not fulfill the highest ends
unless it goes farther than mere imitation, and raises

210 ^STHETICa.

witliio us the same feelings as the landscape itself would
do, whether of peace or power or grandeur, whether it
be of plain or valley or river or ocean, of hopeful spring,
of rich eummer, of plenteous autumn, or stern winter.
The grand aim of the artist should be, not so much to
make an exact picture as to raise the very sentiments we
should experience, were we in the very heart of the scene,
say a desert in Arabia or Sahara, or a gorge in the Sierra
Nevadiis or Himalayas.

Historical Painting. Here, faithfulness to time, place,
and person is essential to gain our confidence; and the
absence of it causes distrust and makes our nature rebel.
We cannot, and should not, tolerate a modern lady, or a
Scotch or Swiss girl, made to appear in an ancient or
cartoon scene, say in a Bible painting. There is always
a special zest when the artist is in thorough sympathy
with those whom he places before us, as we feel when
gazing on the homely Scottish scenes of Sir David Wilkie,
and which we do not feel when he sought to give us
grander scenes, as Knox preaching before the Lords of
the Congregation. But the grand aim of the painter of
character should be to give us expression, true to nature
in the first instance, but also portraying the thoughts,
impulses, and passions of men and women. He should
carry those who view the painting into the very heart
of the scenes he represents, and make them experience
something of the feelings which should have passed
through their breasts had they mingled in the scenes, —
they all the, while knowing that this is a representation,
for it is only when they do so that the sentiment of admi-
ration, and other aesthetic feelings, are called forth. The
painter may have a nobler aspiration; he may aim at
elevating our sentiments by the exhibition of great and
noble character and deeds, and in doing so show himself

THE FINE ABTS. 211

the higher artist. There is a genuine portrayal of
human nature in the paintings of low life, of drinking
and sensuality and vulgar humor, by the Dutch painters ;
but surely there is something vastly higher shown in the
pure virgin, the noble apostles, and the holy angels of
Raphael and the great Italian painters. Each class of
paintings raises a genuine aBsthetic feeling; but surely
there is something immeasurably higher in the latter
than in the former.!

^ I acknowledge that the above discassioii of the Fine Arts is verj
meagre. Though I am fond of gaadng on paintings, and have looked on
yast numbers, I am not competent to describe them as a connoisseur.
What is given is sufficient for my purpose.

BOOK THIRD.
CONTINUOUS AND COMPLEX EMOTIONS.

CHAPTER I.

CONTINUOUS EM0TI0H8.
SECTION I.

Down to this point we have been looking at single
emotions. But we cannot comprehend our nature till we
view the feelings operating continuously, or in combina-
tion. This will be felt by many as a more interesting
study, for it brings us into actual contact with human
life, — into the society of men and women, where the
motives are always mixed, often very complex. Shake-
speare is true to human nature when he brings apparently
incongruous moods and paaaions, say gravity and levity,
so close together. Scott is drawing from life when he
places on the same person, and at the same time, the
smile on the lips and the tear in the eye. The continued
emotions are commonly called Affections and Paaaions.

These phraaes are used somewhat vaguely. Affection
is the word used when we speak of a disposition benig-
nant and commendable, and going forth towards living
beings. It often signifies the same as love ; thus we
Bpenk of the affection of a mother for her son. Passion
is the word used when the disposition is more doubtful in
its nature, and may be towards unconscious objects. We
talk of people being in a pasaion when they are angry,
and having a paaaion for gambling or for hunting. Both
embrace more than a single emotion, or even than a repe-

216

CONTINUOUS EMOTIONS.

tition of the emotion. They imply an abiding princi-
ple, that is, a deeply seated appetence, which ever tends
to act. They are of the nature of a river with many
streams flowing into it. How many brooks join in the
affection of a mother for her child, or the passion of a
gambler for play.

In the combination implied in affection and passion,
iissociation of ideas prompted by the abiding appetence
always plays an important part, and collects a host of
concomitants and consequencea. When a man is in a
passion, what a flight of thoughts, like that of wild beasts
pursuing their piey, of the indignity that has been
heaped upon him, of the loss he has sustained, of the in-
justice or meanness of the one who has perpetrated all
this, and the necessity of resisting or resenting, or of pun-
ishing the offender. When a mother hears of the death
of her son, what a concourse of gloomy images, like that
of birds gathering to the carciiss. When we leavu of a
favorite pfoject of ours being succeBsful, what a fluttering
like that of doves to their windows. What a quiver, full
of keen instruments, of the greed of gain, of the deter-
mination not to be beaten, the cvaving for excitement
to drown reflection, in the power that ia driving on the
man, who is all the while conscious that he ia doing
wrong, to tiie gambling table with the hoards of money
spread out upon it, and his competitors ready for the coq-

SECTION n.

I have not placed love among the simple emotions. In
a loose sense it may take in all the emotions. We may
be said in a general way to love, that ia, we have an at-
tachment to all the persons and objects towards which

LOVE. 217

we have an appetence. The miaer loves his wealth, and
tlie tyrimt liis power, and the vain man the applause that
ia offered him. Taken in this sense love is not a sepa-
rate appetence, but a term designating a characteristic
of all the grateful appetences of car nature. But we
denote something mucli more peculiar when we speak of
that love that is a virtue, or rather a grace, and this the
very liigheat grace.

In this love, love to living beings, to God or to man,
there ia always more than mere emotion, there is an act
of the will. And here it is of importance to distinguish
between emotion and will. In the former there is, we
have seen, excitement, with attachment or repugnance.
But in will there is choice, or the opposite of choice, re-
jection. Two objects are before us, and we choose the
one and reject the other. Or there may be will where
there is only one object before us; we may, as it were,
adopt it at once. The will may assume lower or higher
forms. It may exist in the simple form of wish ; we wish
to attain this pleasure, or this honor, which may or may
not he attainable. Or we may form a determination to
attain it J this is volition, the consummating exercise of
the will.

Now in all love considered as a virtue or grace there
is will. Tliere will, it is true, be an appetence or emo-
tion commonly, or always. But affection does not de-
serve the name of love which mounts no higher than
mere feeling. In all genuine love there is well-wishing,
there is benevolence. We wish well, what we believe to
be good, towards the person beloved. In love, we would
do good to our neighbor, we would promote the gloi"y of
God. To bring out this, we may distinguish between
love considered aa mere attachment, which we may call
the love of complacency, and love considered as well wish-

218 CONTINUODS EMOTIONS.

ing, tbat ia benevolence. The former is a mere emotion,
which may or may not be virtuous. The latter is an act
of our voluntary nature, and is a virtue, ia the very high-
est virtue, "the greatest of these is charity." But the
full discusBion of this subject should fall under the sub-
ject of Win, and not of Emotion.

SECTION 111.

Here there is emotion, or rather affection, with its
variouB elementa. There Is always an excitement with
an attachment. Here, there may aJao be wish or will —
we should wish all that is good to the person beloved.
But this is not the speciality of the affection which we
are now contemplating. We may have all this towards
a sister. In the affection of those whom we describe as
lovers there is always a sexual appetence working to a
greater or leas extent, consciously or unconsciously, al-
lowed or restrained. In a well regulated mind the bodily
appetite should always be subordinated to the mental
emotion and to the well wishing. When it is so it may
become an element in a very exalted affection. It ap-
pears earlier, but comes forth fully at puberty, when it
helps to give full form to the body, and to call forth
many affections, to impart new motives, and to evoke
varied energies. All along it leads us to delight in the
presence and cherish the image of the loved one, and
to devise and engage in many efforts to please and to
gratify. As fusing body and mind it may become one
of the strongest, deepest, and most influential of the pas-
sions of our nature. The continuance of the bodily incli-
nation helps to give a permanence to the affection which
prompta to activity to secure affecfion in return ; or when

LOVE OF THE SEXES. 219

this is not to be had, ending in wasting of body, in dis-
appointment and irritation of soni, and, at times, in death
or even in self-destruction, — in such cases love travels
like the simoom, heated, colored, and destructive,

Neither psychologists nor physiologists have been able
to tell us what it is precisely which leads a man and
woman to cherish a spetial love for one another. They
have left this very much to novelists, to whom it has
furnished their richest stock in trade, but who are not
competent to analyze for us the varied and subtle ele-
ments at work. It may be allowed to physiologists that
there is a bodily appetence underneath, calling forth and
working with specfally mental powers. But in all that
deserves the hallowed name of love, there are far nobler
appetences than those sensual and selfish ones, which
attract a man to a paramour or to a harlot. What are
these ?

This a difficult question to answer. We may, how-
ever, safely answer that the perception of beauty in man
or woman on the part of the opposite sex is undoubtedly
one of the most potent prompters of love. There is a
beauty of person, expression, and manner, which is apt
to impress all, and the possessor of it draws the eyes and
the admiration of all of the opposite sex. These, when
of the male sex, are apt to become vain, and when of the
female sex to become coquettes, loving to gain hearts
only to crush them. Then there are men and women
who have an attraction only to certain persona, and, it
may be, to no others ; these, if they fall in with those
whom they can love in return, and respect, may be more
fortunate than those who are universal favorites, and are
distra,cted by the attention paid them. There are some
who never could love any but one person, who happily
may, or unfortunately may not, love them in return.

S20

CONTINUOUS EMOTIONS.

LoTe is often kindled by love; we are apt to love tboM
who first love ub. This can eaBily be explained. The
idea of a person cherishing an affection for us makes m
feel the person attractive. It baa to be added that when
this love ia shown on the part of those whom we cannot
love, it is apt to produce aversion, as we are afraid of
being troubled with them. In all cases love is increased
when it is reciprocated ; the person loved has now a
farther attraction, and the mutual affection may bind the
parties by links that cannot be broken, may bind husband
and wife in a union which death only can dissolve, nay,
whicli even death cannot dissolve. There are instances
of the love continuing and increasing even when it has
met with no response, leading to sorrow which refuses to
be comforted, and to pining and wasting of body. These
affections, while they furnish some of the very highest
enjoyments of life, may be the means of inflicting the
direst diaappointment, when the persons do not fall in
with those whom they could love and who would love
them in return, when they cannot love those who love
ihcm, or be loved of those whom they love.

Our question is not yet answered, What draws lovers
together ? There is often a likeness between the parties,
But quite as frequently there is a marked difference. The
tall man ch,003es the little woman, or the short woman
f;d]3 in love with the tall man. The restless man selects
a quiet partner, and the timid woman puts herself nnder
a bold protector. Yet it would be an error on the oppo-
site side to say that love, like polar force, attracts the
There must be something in the parties that

Irawa them towards each other. There are tastes and

dtlections natural, often hereditary, which find their

correlates, and a gratified satisfaction in persons of the

■pposite sex. It may not be a similarity, or a diasimi-

LOVE OF THE SEXES. 221

larity, but it is, aa it is commonly called, an affinity of
some kind. Tliis may often be like the correspondence
of tiilliea, by which they fit into each otlier. The protu-
berance fills the cavity, the hook goes into the eye ; the
passivity is roused by the activity, which again finds re-
pose in the paeaivity, and the forward impulse ia met by
the receptivity. The dull man often likes to have a
hvely wife, who has music, or amusements, or a cheerful
remark to entertain him when he comes home from his
toils; and a woman of a calm or shi^ish temperament
ia pleased to be roused by a playful husband, who brings
home to her the incidents of the day, the news, or the
scandal. But there are limits to this fitness of opposites
to blend with each other. The woman's liveliness, while
at proper seasons it relieves the husband, must not ha
BO constant as to disturb his habitual soberness ; and the
man's bantering must not be made, like a perpetual firing
of rockets, to disturb the woman's complacency, or the
wit to oppress her with a sense of her inferiority. I have
notici-'d that affection is apt to be kindled, and is always
strengthened, when the train of ideas in the two minds
are consoniint, — this raake-a the strings to harmonize;
antl on the other hand, disturbance is apt to be produced
when the assficiation of ideas in the one jars upon that
of the other. In all cases the lovo is apt to be more
permanent when the tastes of the persons, when the
courses they pursue, and the ends they keep in view are
alike, or, rather, when they correspond and cooperate, as
one workman does with another in a factory.

It is scarcely necessary to remark that the tendency
of mutual love, in all cases, is to draw the persons to-
gether in mind and in body; in conversation and in em-
brace when they are together, and in correspondence
when they are separated ; in communion of thought and

222 CONTINTTOUS EMOTIONS.

in tokens and expressions oF affection, till they become,
as it were, merged in one another, and almost feel aa if
they were one.

SECTION IV.

EHOTIONS COJtlKQ UP IN CIROnFB.

I hare already noticed the fact that ideas become as-
sociated in clusters (p. 65). An idea may have become
the attracting centre of a whole body of others, each of
which is era(Jtional. When that idea starts up the whole
train comes with it. We often wonder to find some one
breaking out into a burst of passion without any cause or
occasion known to us. But if we were acquainted with
the history of the man we could account for the whole ;
the idea has gathered round it a whole body of feelings
which come iA with it, and it is thns ready as a spark to
kindle a conflagration. There are emotional ideas which
raise excitemeltt as readily as substances covered with
pitch take fire. We have had an unfortunate collision
with a man, and when he suddenly comes in contact
with ns the pent-up feeling bursts out, as liquor does
from a vessel when it is tapped. Or, he has offended us
in one of our ruling passions, and henceforth when we
think of bim we have the memory of his acts of sup-
posed ill-usage, and of our mortifications and disappoint-
ments. A disappointment or a triumph, a loss or a gain,
a reproach, a compliment, a success, or a humiliation
may thus have become glued to a place, or an event,
which will introduce its concomitant, it may be inoppor-
tunely, and in spite of our efforts to prevent it. Some
have anniversaries of fortunes or misfortunes, of mar-
riages or of deaths, which bring with them crowded feel-
ings B^eet as clusters of grapes, or agitated as waves
straggling in a creek.

EMOTIONS COMING UP IN GROUPS.

223

We are all liable to bursts of feeling, suuh as that
which moves the breast of the mother as she cornea upon
a memorial of her departed son, say the prize won by
him in his opening youth ere he was taken from her, or
the sword which he wielded so bravely in the battle in
which he was alain. Such are the thoughts, mirthful
and melancholy, which rise up and chase each other lilie
a flock of birds, aa the engrossed man visits the scenes of
childhood, from which he has been ao long separated.
Such ia the mountain torrent which bursts out when the
sailor's wife is told that she is a widow. There is the
cataract, when a prize of honor, or power, or wealth,
long looked for, goes to a rival ; or when the merchant
has suffered a loss which he knows must make him bank-
rupt. Thus are we liable not only to moments of feel-
ing, but to moods, continuing for longer or shorter time,
of hope or of fear, of joy or of sorrow.

Every one must have noticed persons who have been
for hours in a state of cheerfulness or even hilarity, dis-
posed to be pleased with everything, suddenly becom-

; silent or morose, or cross-tempered, or eontradiotory,
without a cause being discovered by a neighbor, or by
the man himself. People say it is a change of temper,
and so it is ; but we must look deeper. It may so far
proceed from a stomachic or some other organic derange-
ment, but there ia a deeper element. It proceeds from
the intrusion of an idea with a gangrene of feelings, and
this has given a new turn to the flow of thought which
generates a mood which may continue for hours.

CONTINUOUS EMOTIONS.

SECTION T.

THMPEBAMRNT.

Tbis ia to a large extent organic, and implies nervona
action. But mental action mingles. Many great men
Lave been liable to fits of despondency, to moods of
melancholy. Such men have commonly had some high
or deep aim. This may be theoretical or it may be
practical; it may be benevolent or it may be selfish ; it
may contemplate a present or remote good. One man
would build up a large fortune, another a lasting reputa-
tion, another would climb a height of ambition. One
has his mind filled with what is to live forever, another
expects to make a great scientific discovery, a third is
rearing a new system of philosophy. Tliia one ia to be a
merchant who will trade with all quarters of the globe,
this other is to he a great lawyer and sit on the bench of
the anpreme court, a third ia to be a great statesman and
determine the destinies of a country, that fourth is to be
a brilliant orator to away maaaes of men, and the fifth a
gallant soldier and a mighty conqueror. But then things
in this world do not always fall out according to the
wishes and expectations even of the most far-sighted-
Accidents will occur to stop them, and opposition will
corae from quarters from which aid was expected. Under
such circumatiincea weak minda will be apt to give up
the effort. Stronger aplrits will persevere. But as they
do 80 they may have their prostrations, occasional or
periodical. Mohammed will have his fits and retire ir.'.o
a cave, not to abandon the project but to brood over it.
In such a position the eager man feels like the eagle in
its cage; like the prisoner in the dungeon beating upon
the walla that restrain him, and anxious to break them.
Aristotle has remarked that men of genius are often of

TEMPERAMENT.

225

melanclioly temperament. We can understand this.
They do not find their high ideal realized in the world,
and they retire within themselves, or retreat to some
shade

" Whose meUncholy gloom at^cords with tbeii Bonl's sadaeEa."

In some cases of this description the cloud comes down
lower and lower upon the mountain, and at last wraps
the whole soul in thickest mist or dismal gloom. But
when there is buoyancy, the mim comes forth from his
retreat to some great work, as David did from the cave
of AduUara, as Luther did after his depression the night
before he had to face the great emperor and the Diet of
Worms. As one of the incongruities, but not contradic-
tions, of human character, it often happens that the man
under gloom is liable in the reaction to fits of merriment,
which come out from him like electric sparks, to give a
grim light in the darkness. It was thua that John Ifnox,
that Oliver Cromwell, that Abraham Lincoln had their
outbursts of levity in the midst of their habitual seriouB-
ness.

From much the same causes we find at times our de-
pressed and melancholy men to be very kind, sympa-
thetic, and benevolent. They may wear a downcast
look, they may dwell in a gloomy atmosphere, they may
rather repel the young and frighten the frivolous, but
underneath the encrusting ice ia a flowing stream which
cannot be frozen. Their benevolence has so often been
received with ingratitude, their attempts to do good have
so often failed, that their look has become somewhat for-
bidding, but beyond and within there ia a loving and
generous heart.

COMTISUOUS EMOTIONS.
SECTION VL

Oar tey opens other secreta of character. We can es-
pla!n what is meant by temper. This may arise in part
from bodily irritation, from a disordered alimentary canal
or stomach, A diseased organism ia sure to have seeda
in it which breed ephemera. The attacks may individ-
ually be exceedingly small, but, like those of the gnat,
may be exceedingly uncomfortable. The person may be
under its influence without knowing it. Incipient dis-
ease in children is often detected by a restlessness of tem-
per. The mother knows that her boy needs the visit of
a doctor when he is fretful, and relief comes, and the
spirit rises, when the irritating cause ia removed. It is
the same all our lives. The dyspeptic feels depressed
and easily disturbed ; the woman of bilious temperament
and liable to nervous headaches is restless, and yet indis-
posed to action, and is apt to get angry when compelled
to make exertion. Much of commonplace human happi-
ness springs from the vital organs acting healthily, and
encouraging a pleasant flow of spirits ; and much of our
wretchedness from the same organs, interrupted in their
natural action. The uneasiness is partly pathological,
but is greatly intensified by the interference with the
pleasant flow of association. Your disagreeable, unpopu-
lar people are often those who have annoyances in their
own frame, which make them as disagreeable to them-
selves as they are to others.

Temper springs fundamentally from disappointed a,p-
petences. It is most apt to be displayed by those who
have come under the sway of a great many small attjich-
ments, ever liable to be ruflled ; especially when they
cling round near objects, round their children, or personal

PEEPOSSESSIOHS. 227

ease, or aggrandizement, or aocial mnk and status, or
dress, or furniture, or equipage, all liable to be disturbed
from day to day, or from hour to hour. The person ia
prepared to sit down to a pleasant meal, or enjoy a quiet
hour with his family, or commit himself to rest at night,
when an unexpected event breaks in upon him, like a
burglar, to make hira flee or fight. Or he has a favorite
opinion, and some one contradicts him ; or he meets with
opposition where he expected assistance ; or the exertions
he makes and the favors he bestows are received with
ingratitude, and the man ia put into a state of irritation
which makes him disagreeable to himself and all who
come in contact with him. The temper once kindled will
be apt to throw out sparks towards all who are near, to-
wards children and servants and neighbors, towards all
who come across the man, though they may have had no
connection with the original disturbance.
" But ever alur the email violence done

Rankled in hinj, and ruffled all his heart

Ab the sbaip wind that tufHt^s all day long

A little hitter pool about a Gtone

Oa the bare coast." ^

Such is the experience when the appetences are nu-
merous and small. The character is weak and may be-
) contemptible. The enei^y ia wasted in the heat
of small molecular motion, or expresses itself in spitting
sparks.

SECTION VII.

PBBF0SSES8I0NS.

A strong afEeofcion creates a prepossession in favor of
whatever promotes it. We have had pleasure in the
B of certain objects, they have gratified our tastes
1 Teonjaou's IdjUs of the King.

228 CONTINUOUS EMOTIOKS.

and fallen in with our predilectious, and associations
gather around them ; and when they come before us we
are prepared to welcome them, and at all times we think
and expect favoriibly of them. We have a warm heart
towards our birthplace, towards the scenes in which we
have passed our younger years, and towards our home.
The affectionate husband and wife will delight to visit
the spot in which they spent their honeymoon. We are
apt to delight in those who hiive a pleasant countenance,
a genial temper, or a lively, a deferential, or a flattering
manner. Some have a preference for those who have a
frank or brusque address, or who are candid in their
opinions, or have an honest way of expressing themselves.
Others are rather drawn to those who are affectionate
and tender in their feelings. All delight in the society
of those for whom they have such predilections, do not
willingly believe evil oE them, and are inclined to copy
them.

The father and mother are disposed to think favorably
of the character of their sons and daughters, do not
readily listen to an evil report of them, and will believe
what they say when they would not credit the same
tale told by a stranger. Ifc is proverbial that love has
a blinding influence, and the woman under its power
trusts the vows of her lover who may thereby become
her seducer. We willingly attend to the arguments
ui^ed in behalf of causes which seem to promote our
pleasures or flatter our self-esteem. He is likely to be
a favorite in private and in public, to be in fact the pop-
ular man (more so than a great and good man, who may
rather excite envy, as interfering with our inordinate
self-esteem), whose manner and style of address are such
that those whom he meets go away better pleased with
themselves. It is said that those who got a refusal from

Charles IT, of England went away better pleased thaji
were those wlio had their requests gninted by hia father,
and no duuht this helped to make the one die in pros-
perity while the other perished on a scaffold. The flat-
terer gains his end by speaking to iia of our real or im-
agined good qualities ; but it may happen unfortunately,
or rather I should eay fortunately, that we come to dis-
eover that he pays the like compliments to others, and
we turn away with disgust as from one who has been
tiying to deceive wb. The courtier studies the weak-
neaaes of thoae whose favor he would gain, and addresseB
himself to them, but may find that the caprices of the
pampered man of power become in the end intolerable.
That man is not likely to be a aucceasfnl agent in a good
cause who sends away those whom he wonld gain in a
hnmbled and repining humor. The ardent man stimu-
lates others because he imparts to them some of the mag-
netic power which is in himself. There is sure to be a
terrible disappointment, and perhaps even a disposition
towards revenge and retaliation, when those whom our
imaginations have clothed with such excellent qualities,
or whom we supposed to be our friends, are seen to be
unworthy, or have turned out to be foea.

SECTION VIII.

It presupposes certain tendencies, convictions, affec-
tions, or purposes which have been thwarted, and then
all that is associated with the disappointments raises
malign feehngs which often lead to unjustifiable condact.
There are scenes at which we have suffered a hiiniilia-
tion, or experienced a sorrow, and we ever afterwards
avoid them. Or there are people who have knowingly

230 COSTINTOUS EJIOTIONS.

or unknowingly, justly or unjustly, offended US ; who
Imve made ua see their superiority and our inferiority ;
who have lowered us in our own estimation ; who have
wounded us in a tender part ; who have crossed our favor-
ite ends; who have injured or maligned us ; or beat as in
the rivalries of trade, or the competitions social or liter-
ary of life; and henceforth we look askance upon them,
are apt to feel uncomfortable in their presence, and to
imagine them to be actuated by ugly motives towards
us. This feeling is especially apt to rise in tlie breasts
of those who have injured any one in his good name or
estate ; they fear that he may take revenge and do them
mischief. In these ways prejudiee is excited against not
only individuals, but classes, against trades, professions,
grades of society, — the rich fearing the poor, and the
poor envying the rich, — against political parties, relig-
ious sects, against races white or colored, against states
and nations — "the Jews had no dealings mth the Sa-
maritans."

Tliis prejudice, wrong in itself, is sure to lead to evil
conduct. These antipathies are one of the principal
sources of quarrels, feuds, and wars ; men clothe their
enemies with evil qualities, as Nero clothed the early
Christians with the skins of wild beasts, or covered them
with pitch, and then destroyed them. We see the feeling
working in more common cases. We do not listen pa-
tiently to the arguments urged by those who, for any
cause, say by their misconduct or our misapprehension
of it, have given us offense. We become predisposed
Hgainst causes which have injured our prospects. The
publican is not likely to feel an interest in the cause of
temperance, nor the protectionist in free trade, nor the
licentious man in the correction of vice, nor the infidel in
the defenses of religion, nor the calumniator in the re-

FICKLEKESS OF FEELING, 231

cital of the excellent deeds of one whom he hits reviled.
Herod readily granted the request of the damsel who
diiiiced before him, and her mother prompted her to ask
the head of John the Baptist, who had audaciously de-
clared that " it ia not lawful for thee to have thy brother's
wife." The perverse boy conies to detest the faithful
teadier who has admonished him so often. PoliticianB
are apt to speak against the party which hinders them in
their schemes of patriotic or persona! aggrandizement.
Or, what is to be explained on much the same principles,
tiiey turn with a strong revulsion against the party
which they have long favored, but which, as they think,
has overlooked them, or kept them down, or ill-used
them. We can thus explain the mistaken zeal, often the
antipathies, of the convert or pervert. We have here
the key to open the secrets of some of the contradictions,
so called, of human nature, in persons bitterly reviling
imd persecuting the causes which at one time they clam-
orously supported. We have a still more lamentable
issue, when the man comes to quarrel with his own con-
science, and learns to hate the duty which it would lead
him to do, but which he refuses to do. Not willing to
listen to the reprover he would hasten to tear out his
tongue that it may no longer rebuke bim.

SECTION IX.

FICKLENESS OF FEELING.

Everyone must have come in contact with people who
have feelings of a certain kind strong and lively, but
who soon lose them and become apathetic, or fall under
emotions of a different, perhaps of an opposite kind. To-
day they seem to be full of aifection for us, and load us
with expressions of regard ; to-morrow they are turned

2C2 CONTINUOUS EMOTIONS.

Rway from us, and meet us with opposibion or
and are perhaps layishing their friendship on others, for
whom they hud no regard before. There are people of
whom this chameleon liability to change of affection is
characteristic. They will be found to be persons with
no very decided or deep motive principle, and whose
emotions are very ranch determined by outward circum-
stances. Commonly, tliey are swayed by a number of
not very strong appetences, taking the direction which
external events working on an irrepressible nervous tem-
perament give them. At this present time tbey are
deeply interested in some person or end, great or small;
but the seed is sown in stony places, and, having no depth
of earth, it speedily withers away. New circumstances
appear, unexpected difficulties spring up, as they prose-
cute the cause ; or the person beloved gives offense, and
the interest is ready to collect round some other objecta.
Such people appear very inconsistent, and so they are,
and they do not gain our permanent confidence ; bnt they
are, after all, acting consistently with their character,
which goes by impulses and jerks, and not by steady
principle.

SECTION X.

The young are apt to live under the influence of a con-
siderable number of lighter impulses, moving the spirit
as the ocean is rippled into wavelets by zephyrs. Now it
is affection to father, mother, sister, brother, companion ;
now it is some sense of duty ; now it is a desire to win
esteem and to dazzle ; now it is a sheer love of activity
and excitement, as in play, in leaping, and dancing. As
they advance m years they become soberer, partly from

RULING

the less lively flow of the animal spirits, but mainly from
the streams being collected into a few formed and settled
channels. The fountains and streamlets that originally
start and feed our streams are beyond calculation in
number, but as they flow they meet, and unite in great
rivers. So the numberlesa impulses of youth settle into
a few habitual modes of action. In middle age, the
earning of one's bread, the cares of a household, the
business of life, the common services and civilities due to
neighbors and friends demand and engross the greater
portion of the motive energy. In declining life, the
grave man and woman commonly centre their regards
on a few ends which they pursue, having seen the vanity
of many of those which captivated them in their younger
years — though some of those which they cling to may
turn out to be as unsatisfactory as those which they have
abandoned.

Youth might be painted as with the question ever in
their mouths, "Who will show us any good?" and you
Bee them running to every spot where others are collected,
and gathering round every fire of crackling wood thitt is
kindled. But there are many exceptions to this general
account. There are boys and girls who have sobriety in
their character and manner from the beginning, either
because they are governed by some serious principle or
principles, or because they have no very strong passions.
They are your boys with aged faces, which recommend
them to grave seniors but keep them from being popular
with their coevals, who prefer the lively, the gHy, and
the roystering. In like manner there are old men and
women who retain their interest in occupations which
enable them to retain their youthful character, and bring
them into sympathy with children.

There are cases in which one passiou is strong, or a

234 CONTINUOUS EMOTIONS.

few passions are strong, in themselves or relatively to
others, and they claim and gain a governing potency,
iind reign without a rival, or with a rival which tbey
keep down. It is the devotion of a boy to hia play; or
of a girl to her father — it may be in poverty, or in
wretched health ; or of a mother to her son — it may be
helplessly invalid, or deformed j or of the merchant to
liis businesa, or of a farmer to his land, or of a physician
to his profession, or of a scientist to his researches, or of
a philosopher to his speculations, or of the painter, sculpt-
or, or architect to his art, or of the putriot to his country,
or of the politician to hia party, or of the successful sol-
dier to military aggrandizement, or of the ecclesiastic to
his church, or of the Christian to the glory of God. The
passion, as a centre, aggregates a crowd of associations,
and it moves on tike a marshaled host, with the com-
bined strength of the whole, bearing down the obstacles
which oppose. Those thus impelled are often distin-
guished by their energy — for good or for evil, according
to the nature of the afEection. Among them are to be
found your strong lovei-s and your good haters. They
often accomplish ends, in heaping up wealth, in doing
brilliant feats, in making scientific discoveries, which
could not have been effected by men of equal intellectual
ability, but without the concentrated energy. They
strike out a path for themselves ; like Lochinvar, they
swim the river " where ford there is none." The man
with one clear line before hira has much the same ad-
vantages as a railway carriage has over one on a common
road, and he moves along with the determination of a
steam train on the rails set for it. Sometimes the ruling
power imparts a sublimity to things tliat are not grand
in themselves ; thus the love of the mother, as she forgets
her personal safety in defending her children, makes ths

:w J

EOLMQ PASSIONS.

weak woman strong aud heroic. In other cases, the
Btroiig ambition being attached to weak capacities makes
the person ridiculous, as the ambition of Charles XJI. of
Sweden did. But when there is any corresponding intel-
lectual power strong characters are produced, such as
those of Alexander, Julius CEesar, Cromwell, Napoleon,
or belonging to a different order, Paul, or Knox, or Mil-
ton, or among females, as Semiiamis, Cleopatra, Queen
EHzabeth, and Catherine of Russia. The-so affections,
hke the great rivers of the world, the Nile, the Ganges,
the Mississippi, the Amazon, drain vast regions and draw
their waters into one great stream, which moves along
with irresistible power.

This ruling passion may become terrible in its power;
carrying all before it like a swollen river with torturing
eddies, sucking all things as into a whii-lpool, or devour-
ing all around like the conSiigration of a city. Hidden
it may be from the e^ye, but when an object strikes it or a
spark is applied to it, it bursts forth into an explosion of
passion like that of a powder magazine. In other cases
the dynamic is compressed towards a point which it
strikes like a bullet. Those impelled by this dominant
power are commonly the men and women who have had
the largest share in swaying the destinies of the world.
When it is evil, or when it is exclusive and not restrained
by other powers meant to limit it, it may work intoler-
able evil, wasting households and provinces and nations,
and spreading rapine and misery. When it is a selfish
passion it may wither or consume the natural affections,
lead parents who are superstitious to make their chil-
dren pass through sacrificial fires, and persons naturally
kind-hearted to become relentless persecutors, and con-
querors when resisted to order the murders of myriads o£
innocent women and children. On the other hand, when

236 CONTINUOUS EMOTIONS.

it is good, benevolence will flow from it as rays do from
the sun, and scatter a beneficent influence over a wide
region, whereby vices are restrained, means are provided
for healing the sick, outcasts are reclaimed, and the poor
have their wants supplied.

It has to be added that few are so deeply under the
dominion of one passion as to prevent others from occa-
sionally coming in and giving a so-called personality, a
supposed incongruity or contradiction, to the character :
as we have seen the miser doing a generous deed to a
child or neighbor for whom he has taken a fancy, and
the thief giving his money to persons in distress, and the
murderer saving the lives of individuals in whom he has
become interested. These peculiarities act merely as the
abutting rocks at the ledges of a river, raising a ruffling
here and there, but allowing the stream all the while to
flow on with uncontrollable power.

CHAPTER II.

MOTIVES SWAYING MASSES.
SECTION I.

COMMUNITY OF TEELIKG.

It ia a familiar fact that feeling is apt to be increased
when it is shared by others. How are we to account for
this ? It ia customary to refer it to sympathy, to an at-
traction or a contagion of feeling. But these are loose
metaphors, expressions pointing to an important fact, but
failing to untwine the cords that make the rope, and pos- J
sibly misleading us by vague resemblances which are apt *
to be regarded as identities. I am not sure that there
ia a direct attraction of one man's feelings to those of
another like that of gravitation, or that there is a literal
contagion like that which takes place in fever. What-
eTsr be our explanation of the undoubted circumstance, J
that men, women, and children are apt to move in masses,
it must proceed on the principle that each man has after
all an appetence swaying himself. The attraction that
moves molar bodies must be a power which reaches every
individual molecule. This is a circumstance commonly
overlooked by historians, who write in a loose way of
people being moved by sympathy without explaining
what sympathy means.

It may be posited in a general way, I think, that as it
is an idea of an object appetible or inappetihle that raises
feeling, so it ia an idea, it is a common idea, that raises

238 MOTIVES SWATING MASSES.

the ci'Mimon feeling. If this be so it is essential, i
structing a theory of the movement of mnsses, that we
show how the common idea of objects appetible or ioap-
petihlt; arises.

First, in forming his opinions a man \a apt to be
swayed by a number of considerations not altogether di-
rected to his impartial judgment ; in particular he may H
allow himself to believe and act simply as others do. A I
large body of mankind do not form their convictions oa
independent ground. People are often obliged to decide
and act so rapidly and unexpectedly that they have not
time to go round the object and survey all sides of it.
They lay down inferior rules not universally applicable,
though often so, and act at once upon them. How often
do they allow themselves to act simply as others act. If
there be an assembly of a thousand people in a hall and
a crash is heard, and one cries out " tiie gallery is fall-
ing," the more easily terrified rise and rush to the door,
and are followed by the whole crowd trampling on each
other. We have an example of the same kind in the
fear which thrills through a whole army ; some are seen
to run, having sulfered a defeat, and suddenly all fieo in
disorder. In such cases aa these there ia often a brief
and unnoticed ratiocination: there must be danger when
BO many are in trepidation. These are cases in which
pei-sona have acted rashly. But in how many cases have
we all acted wisely in doing as othei-s are seen doing,
without waiting for logical proof, as when we see a crowd
gathering for the defeuBe of an injured man and we join
them. Some in the end give up all independent judg-
ment founded on reasons, and allow one or two pei'sons
to lead them, or they follow a multitude to do evil. We
have here one way, though by no means the most po-
tent, in which a community may lead the ideas and ao
the feelings of individuals.

__J

COMMUNITY OF FEELING. 289

Secondly, a common public seotiment baa usually a
common appetence producing a common belief and hope,
kindling a common enthusiasm, and issuing in a common
movement, 'wliich individuala join because tliey are
heartily with it. It may spring from an evil which all
feel ought to be remedied, from the seuae of an oppres-
sion from which they would be delivered. Tiike such
events as the Reformation in Europe, the rising againafc
Charles I., in England, the French Revolution, and the
Proclamation of Independence in America ; in all of
these there were universal abuses, and sources of irritar
tion. There were thus seeds sown ready to spring up
simultaneously under the first fostering circumstances,
as the grain does in spring.

Thirdly, arguments and appeals, fitted to sway oar
judgments and interest our feelings, float in the very air.
These, pressed upon us at all times by dear friends, by
ministers of religion, by orators, by patriots, must pro-
duce an effect. It was thus that at the starting of the
Crusades the people all over Europe, identifying their
religion with the Holy Sepulchre, and feeling the dia-
gi-ace implied in its being in the hands of the infidel,
eagerly listened to the preaching of Peter the Hermit,
and were carried along with the wave. It was thus that,
in the decadence of religion in the middle of the last cen-
tury, so many were ready to be awakened by the thun-
dera of Whitefield; even Franklin felt the influence, and
they said : " Is Saul also among the prophets ? "

In this way a common sentiment is created. There ia
often a family faith, and young people catch the spirit of
fathers or mothers, of older brothers and sisters. Every
parish, every county, every province, every State ia apt
to have its periodical excitement about some question,
great or small. There are states of society in which

M» MOTIVES SWATIKQ MASSES.

" fears are in the way," and tlie very air is tremulous,
and thtre is » terror as i»f overhanging plague or of pes-
tilence. In this sense fear is infectious. There lire
others in which there is » stimnlus given to all by the
oxygenated atmosphere which they breathe. Every age
has ila prevaiUng faith, and its favored medicine for cur-
ing ihe ills of society or regenerating the world. Ordi-
nary minds are sure to be sucked in by the current, and
go willingly along with it. Only the men of independent
thought and resolute will are able to resist the swelling
torrent. The school boy, who has to oppose the prca-
tices of a set of wicked compaiiioiia, shows more bravery
than the soldier on the battle-field. There may be as
much courage shown in resisting a deluded democracy as
ill facing the scowl of a despot.

Most of the grand movements for good in our world'a
history have thus been produced. I am aware that a
certain class of writers in Germany, generated of the
philosophic pantheism there and followed by literary
men like Carjyle, in England, are fond of ascribing all
reformations to heroes. And doubtless great undertak-
ings have often been hatched in the brains of cur great
men. But, as Sir W, Hamilton has remarked, " Woe to
the revolutionist who is not himself a creature of the rev-
olution. If he anticipates he is lost; for it requires what
no individual can supply, a long and powerful sympathy
in a nation, to untwine the ties of custom which bind a
people to the established and the old." The leader in a
revolution is merely the moat energetic man — such was
KnoK — who has caught the spirit which has begun to
pervade the community. If the soil is not so far pi-e-
pared the workman has, like Wycliff, Huss, or Savona-
rola, to spend hia life in plowing and harrowing, and it
is reserved for others to see the seed spring up. But let

-k^

REACTION OF PUBLIC SENTIMENT. 241

UB suppose that a public sentiment niia been created.
Everj' man's interest in the cause is increased when hia
wife, bis family, and hia immediate neighbors all feel as
be does, and are ready to carry him along. Each feels
confirmed in his own judgment by the judgment of the
rest. Were the sentiment confined to the individual the
attempt would he hopeless; but the prevalence of it stirs
up action with the expectation of success. The river be-
ing started is swelled by the confluence of other streams,
as when returning spring melts the snows on a hundred
mountains, each one of which sends on its swollen waters.
The body moves on with the power of a mass, and the
momentum increases the heat which is the source of the
motion. Each man says to his neighbor, come let us go
on together, and they join hand in hand. There is now
B jubilation as at a review, and a shouting as when men
go forth to battle ; the reverberation from every height
increasing the sound and imparting farther impulse.
The march is now of men in aiTay going oa to the bat-
tle, the victory, and the triumph.

» SECTION II.

REACTIOS OP PUBLIC BENTIMENT.

It is a fact that after popular opinion has run for a time
in one way it is apt to be arrested, and to flow ui a very

I different direction ; and this in rural districts, in villages,
in cities, in communities, in nations, in continents, in so-
cial circles and learned societies, in religious sects, in lit-
erature iind the fine arts. A period of religious fervor
or precisian morals is apt to be followed, as we see in the
reign of Charles II. of England, by a time of indiffer-
ence, or perhaps of infidelity, of scofiing and profanity, or
profligate morality. On the other hand an age of wild

242 MOTIVES SWAllNG MASSES.

Bkeptieism and licentiousness, as we see in the first
Freni-Ii Revolution, brings biick nations to religion or
to Biiperstilion and a sober morality. A long reign of
conservatiBm, in which every abuse is protected and
every proposed change frowned down, is sure to generate
an opposite force going on to reform, which, gathering
to excess, bnrsts in a thunderstorm of polidciil convul-
sion, which, in its turn, drives thinking men to gather
round the cause of order. The world thus moves on, like
light and heat, by vibrations, and is kept frnin stagnation,
like the ocean, by flows and ebbs. Even in specuhitive
opinion we see like swingings of the pendulum: in the
old earnest schools of Greece, ending in the sophists,
who, in their turn, raised up Socrates and Plato in oppo-
sition ; in the pleasure -loving Epicureans gendering the
sternness of the self-righteous Stoics, while the paradoxes
of the Stoics strengthened the easier code of the Epicu-
reans ; in the formalism of the Schoolmen calling forth
the induction of Bacon ; in the mathematical school of
Descartes and Spinoza, leading to the experientialism of
Locke, which degenerated into the skepticism of Hume
and the sensationalism of Condillac; which had to be
counteracted by the d priori forms of Kant, Hegel, and
Coleridge, which has sunk into the materialism of the
present day. An excess of electric force at one end of a
needle does not more certainly produce an opposite force
at the other end than an extreme position generates its
contrary in all spheres of thought and action.

In an earlier part of this work (p. 84) I have shown
how the reaction operates in the individual, and of course
it thus operates in all the individuals composing the mass.
There may be lassitude produced by long excitement
which has spent itself, leaving those who have been under
its influence in a state of exhaustion and iudisposed to

BEACTION OF PUBLIC SENTIMENT. 243

exertion. The volcano has burst and the lava has cooled
and become hardened. At this point the influence of
temperament and of race is apt to manifest itself ; such
peoples as the French and the Irish, like the flax, being
seized by the excitement sooner, and losing it sooner;
whereas the Scotch, like their heather, catch the fire
more slowly, but continue burning for a greater length
of time, lint this organic wave cresting and then fall-
ing will not explain fully the reaction of a whole com-
munity or H. nation.

The public sentiment has been created by a felt evil
to be i-emoved, or a wished-for good to be attfiined. The
enthusiasm continues as long as the good and the evil are
felt. But the feeling may die out. Those engaged in
the struggle are not always satisfied with the manage-
ment of it, or they are disappointed with the issue.
Very often dissensions arise among them, and they quar-
rel about the spoils. The movement has agglomerated
like a ball of snow as it rolled on, but as it enters a new
season it melts away. The soil has yielded its crop,
such as it is, and it is not so ready for bearing anything
new as men found it in tiie spring-time of their zeal.

It is frequently urged that these revulsions evince
great weakness and contradiction in human nature ; ^
people are mad in favor of enterprise this year, and next
year all their interest in it has died down, and perhaps
they are bent on something very different. But it may
Dot have been the same people who are engaged in the
action and reaction. There may have been numbers
who never fell under the excitement, and are not respon-
sible either for its kindling or its extinction ; and some
of these may be ready to come under " a new control,"
— aa, at the close of the Puritan ferment, Newton and
Locke took up science and philosophy, and the shop-

244 MOTIVES SWAYING MASSES.

keepers and farmers did not wish to continue any longer
the war with their patrons. Nay, there may all along
have been people who disapproved of the movement and
the movers and saw their failings, and who, though
they durst not oppose the tide when it was so strong, are
ready now that the ebb has set in to occupy the ground
left by the receding waters.

Meanwhile a new generation spring up, who have
never entered into the feelings of their fathers, and have
feelings of their own formed in new circumstances. The
new race sees the excesses of which the victorious party
have been guilty; they have grievances of their own differ-
ent from those of their fathers, indeed, their grievances
may refer to the conduct of their fathers. In the reac-
tions of philosophy, idealism or sensationalism is guilty
of oversights which the other school has to correct, but in
doing so has itself to be corrected by the succeeding age.

As these various causes act there is apt to be a reac-
tion in one age against the prevailing sentiment of the
preceding age. This is commonly initiated by youths of
from eighteen to twenty-five years of age, but may not
be carried by them till they are considerably advanced in
life, by which time the seeds of a new crop may be de-
posited to choke and to kill that which they would reap.
It was thus that about the year 1830, when the radical
wave in church and state was at the highest in Great
Britain, there appeared at the back of it a hollow in the
form of a revived ritualism, and a strong political con-
servatism. At a later date we have seen that in the
midst of the Catholic revival at Oxford there was hatched
an infidelity which has burst forth like a viper.

AN UNWKITTEN CHAPTER IN POLITICAL ECONOMY. 245

SECTION ni.

AN TJNWniTTCN CHAPTER IM POtlTtCAL ECONOMY.

Political economy inquires into the laws regulating
the accumulation and distribution oE wealth. Some
wonld Bay of "national wealth;" bat surely religion,
geographical science, and the spread of general philan-
thropy will prepare men to look to the world's wealth
rather than a nation's wealth, and lead them to oppose
every measure inconsistent with the general welfare,
even though it should seem to be favorable to a given
state. The science aeeka to estimate the influence of
physical agents, snch as soil and climate, and the opera-
tion of such economical relations as labor and capital,
looking incidentally at government and laws. But it has
scarcely endeavored to estimate the varied motives by
which mankind are swayed. It has commonly assumed,
in an avowed or in a tacit way, that mankind are swayed
merely or mainly by self-interest, some adding, so far as
they know what their interest is. But this is not true
of human nature. Every man ia no doubt largely swayed
by a desire to secure happiness, and with mnltitudes the
supreme end of their existence is to secure as many
physical indulgences as possible. But the great body of
mankind are swayed, less or more, by otlier considera-
tions. Even general benevolence, especially in Christian
countries, is an element of great potency : in awaken -
ing human activities in raising hospitals, asylums, peni-
tentiaries, in establishing churches, educational institu-
tions, lower and higher, and in sending out missions to
foreign countries to Christianize and to civilize rude and
barbarous nations. Patriotism, too, has had a mighty
influence in calling forth and directing human energy :
't has on the one hand united men in strong bonds, and

246 MOTIVES SWAYIXC MASSES.

on the other led to devastating wars, and both these have
been ewajing the destinies of the race. Then domeetio

affection, tlie love of parents and children, of brothers
and Bisters, of husband and wife, of relatives and friends,
of companions and neighbors, have together had nearly
as much inlinenoe as a narrow selfisbneBS in leading and
guiding the exertions of men, mostly for good, at times
fur evil, when thej lead to jealousies and quarrels. Even
selfishness may take a thousand different forma, — it may
be the love of money, or the love of sensual indulgences,
of showy dress, of good eating, of family aggrandizement,
of social position, of a fine dwelling, of lai^e landed prop-
erty, of beautiful horses, of musical concerts, of theatri-
cal exhibitions, or of the fine arts. All of these and
every one of them may tend to accumulate or distribute
wealth ; but they do so in very different ways ; and they
call forth very different kinds of activity, and foster very
varied callings and professions, to gratify the tastes im-
plied. The desire to have a pleasant beverage, stimulat-
ing but not intoxicating, is gratified by tea and coffee,
which have to be brought from distant countries, and
this leads to the employment of merchants and mari-
ners, which bring the ends of the earth nearer each
other.

I have supposed that the motives last named operate
selfishly, that we follow them because of the pleasure
afforded. But these and other motives act independent
of any idea of pleasure, or anything without or independ-
ent of themselves, and impel men each to ends of his
own, and each end secures activities in a particular line.
The craving for excitement fosters theati'es, and balls,
and gambling, and horse-races, and calls forth a body of
men and women who have to get up the amusements.
The love of education leads to the institution of schools

. J

AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN POLITICAL ECONOMr. 2i7

and colleges, and thus calls forth a. body of teachers
whose office it is to spread intelligence. "Where there is
a general love of art, as in Italy, painters and sctilptors
spring up and spread around them a refining influence.
In all countries religion has had a mighty sway over the
character, the tastes, and employments of the people, in
Dome cases fostering only slavish subjection of spirit, and
ghostly fears which prostrate the energy ; but in others
rousing the dormant intellect, and kindling the highest
aspiration and noblest affections. In the Church of
Rome, in its more exalted manifestations, there ia en-
couragement given to all that may gratify the aesthetic
senses and excite the imagination. Among Protestant*
free thought and intelligence are called into exercise, and
these lead to independent action, to industry and perse-
verance, and all the hardy virtues which spring from
these habits.

Now political economists should look to these as well
as to other agencies at work. They cannot explain the
direction which human activity takes in different coun-
tries unless they estimate them. Certainly they will
give a very narrow, or rather an utterly perverted view
of the causes of the production and expenditure of
wealth, if they proceed on the principle that all men are
srned merely by self-interest. Not that they may be
required to enter on the discussion of human motives
metaphysically, or give a refined analysis of their nature,
or of the elements involved in them. But they should
consider their operation in a general way, observe their
sameneaa and their differences, give some sort of classifi-
cation of thero, and estimate the action and influence of
each class in different ages and countries. I am not com-
petent to write this chapter in political science. I must
content myself with pointing out the want and leave

2-18 MOTIVES SWAYIKG MASSES.

others to supply it, giving only sueii examples aa may
show what is meant. What a contrast between England,
with its love of real comforts and its sense of the bind-
ing power of morality, and France, with its love of glory
and its restlessness ; the character of the one nation has
compflled it to seek commercitil greatness and internal
security, whereas that of the other has impelled it to
military exploits and internal changes. What a differ-
ence between ScotLmd and Spain, though Buckle im-
agined them to be alike because both have had a rever-
ence for religion, — but how different the religion. The
faculties of the one people sharpened by great religious
conflicts, and the reading of the Word of God, have been
exerted in independent thought, in founding schools and
colleges, in agricultural and commercial industry, which
has overcome the disadvantages of climate; whereas in
the other country, the people, with a desire beneath for
freedom, have allowed themselves, til! of late years, to be
trampled on by civil and ecclesiastical despotism. Hol-
land and Switzei'iand will occur to every one as examples
of intelligence awakened and giving a special direction to
industries ; in the one to a battling with the threatening
ocean and to extensive shipping, and in the other to the
works of art, which can be performed in winter when the
climate does not admit of out-door employments. Every
one notices the difference between the United States
south and the United States north; in the former the
white population looking with contempt on labor, and
cultivating social kindness and hospitality ; the latter
with intellects sharpened to every kind of active pursuit.
The wealth of the one is different, both in the collection
and distribution, from that of the other.

The prevailing swaying motives of a nation determine
its character ; they do more, they determine its condl

AN UNWRITTEN CHAPTER IN POLITICAL ECONOMY. 24fl

tion. That country is in the best etate in which the
inotives have the same place absolutely and relatively
that they have in man's original or in his regenerated and
restored nature. As the king and governor, lifting his
head as a tower above all the rest, should be the moral
regulator, issning commands and subordinating all to
itself. This ruling power on earth should point upward
to the power in heaven from which it derives its power,
and this will prompt to adoration and worship, and the
erection of temples with spires pointing to the skies.
The individual man, while he has a business to which
he must attend, is all the better for possessing tastes
which he has pleasure in gratifying, such as music, or
painting, or reading.

When this authority rules there is room for every sort
of activity and energy. So a nation will prosper the
more when, besides its necessary bond of self-defense, it
has great causes with which it is identified, say, religion,
or education, or literature, or liberty; and it will accom-
plish great ends by its continued and combined efforts.
But while a nation is one, and has a head, it has also
many members, and each acts best when it acts in its
own way. A community is not in its healthiest state
when every one acts as every other acts ; the result is a
dead uniformity, as in China, a level plain in which
there may be fertility, bat no fresh air or pleasant vari-
ety of hill and dale, of peaks and passes. Individualism
should have a place in every advancing community ; there
should be men who think for themselves, who act for
themselves, who follow their own line of thought and
investigation. These are the men who make discoveries
Knd produce the highest works of genius, aay, in litera-
ture, in science, in the fine arts, and in useful inventions.
These are the men who give us original thoughts, who

250 MOTIVES SWAHNG MASSES.

make discoveriea and opea new paths. At times their
path may run out into eccentricities, and tbey do not
adjust theuifieives to their age, whioh may combine to
crush them. But if there is any spring in them they
will resist and compel mankind to give them their place,
and if rejected and despised in their own age they will
be deified by posterity. It is by a combined centrifugal
and centripetal force that a nation is made to take a
progressive course.

In the past nge there has been a disposition to look
exclusively to the intellectual pdwers, aa calling forth the
energies of a community. But there is a prior question.
What calls the intellect into exercise ? An honest answer
to this question will bring us to moral causes, probably
beyond this, to religious causes, as awakening individuals,
or a whole people, into life, and then the intellectual pow-
ers carry on and perform the work, and in doing so may,
unfortunately, become dissociated both from religion and
morality, and may be exercised in clothing vice with
all the graces of poetiy, or in undermining the founda-
tions of religion. Such men as David Hume and Rob-
ert Burns could not have appeared in Scotland unless
there had been an awakening caused by the religious
struggles of the previous ages. Yet both helped to un-
dermine the faith and the purity by which the reforma-
tions were characterized.

The rising generation, trained in homes where religion
and morals have been carefully enforced, are apt to com-
plain of the restrictions which have been laid upon them,
and to imagine and argue that, under a more liberal sys-
tem, the good would have been more attractive to them.
But they may find aa they advance in life that a greater
liberty ends in licentiousness in the generation that fol
low ; and the ditSculty then is to get back the high

. J

CONCLUSION. 251

standard whlcli has been lost. A simple, fixed faith and
a rigid obedience are essentiiil potences in the training
of the yonthfid mind. Those who abandon their faith,
but are still hoping to save ruoraiity, may discover that
when the rehgion departs tlie morality is apt to go
with it. But thus the ages swing between belief and
unbelief; feeling the creed to be too strict, they give it
lip, but are made to feel in the next generation that,
after all, they cannot do without it, and they have to
call it back to their aid. In such circumstances wisdom
consists in training the young in law rigid aa the bones
of our frame, but with love aa ita life. This requires
no reaction, and is every way beat for the economic aa
well as for the moral and religious good of the commu-
nity.

CONCLUSION.

The emotions may well be carefully studied, for they
constitute the main means of our happiness or our misery.
They are not to be eradicated, but guided.

"Yet why to harsh. Why with remoraelBas knifa
Home to the stem prune back each bongli and bud?
I thought ths cajik of edumtiau was
To Btieogthen, not to crush, to train and feed
Each BQhjecC towartlB fullillment of its nature.
According lo Hie mind of God, revealed
In lawB congetiiol with every kind
And character of man."
The emotions are all good in themselves. They all
tend to promote our own welfare or that of others. They
attach us to the earth on which we dwell, and to our
fellow men, and make us feel our dependence on God.

But they do not contain in themselves any principle
of control. So they may lead to pvit as well as good.
They are to be guided on the one hand by our intelli-

262 OOMGLUSION.

gence, which tells as what things are, and on the other
hand by our conscience, which announces what things
ought to be. When so ruled they give a high elevation
to our nature ; and as they have descended like the rains
from the sky, so their breathings mount upwards to
heaven, and to God.

The Ideas to which the mind of man can rise are said
to be the True, the Beautiful, the Good, the three rays
with diverse colors which constitute the light. We owe
the first of these to the intellect, the last to the moral
reason, while it is the office of the emotions to reveal to
us the beautiful, or rather, as I call it, the LOTELY, so
fitted to render the GoOD and the Tbub attractive.

INDEX.

A.DMIRATION, 139.

Adoration, 105, 139.

iEschylas, 59, 60.

^thetics, 16, 148-2U.

Affections, 215, 216.

Alison, 152, 172.

Allen, Grant, 156, 157.

Altruistic, 113.

Anger, 121>123.

Anticipation, 142.

Anxiety, 145.

Apathy, 48.

Appetence, 2, 7-40.

Appetible, 111.

Appetites, 12.

Apprehension, 142.

Approbation, 147.

Architecture, 207.

Aristotle, 4, 44, 46, 150, 184.

Association of ideas, 17, 23-25, 45, 61-

70, 86, 154, 178, 179, 222.
Assurance, 142.
Astonishment, 95, 137-139.
Attachment, 77.
Augustine, 150.
Awe, 139.

Barrow, 189, 190.

Beattie, 175. •

Beauty, 148-177, 195.

Bell, Sir Charles, 93, 94, 97, 98, 114,

123-126, 136, 145, 191, 192, 201.
Benevolence, 10.
Bitterness, 116.
Blushing, 145.
Braid, 105.
Brown, T., 4, 113.

Burke, 102, 154.
Buma, 17, 61, 188, 250.

Carpenter, 18.

Chagrin, 117.

Chaucer, 59.

Cheerfulness, 127.

Cicero, 48, 184.

Cogan, 114,122, 124, 125, 126, 130, 188,

141.
Coleridge, 61, 242.
Color, 160-163.

Community of feeling, 237-241.
Complacency, 115.
Condillac, 16, 242.
Confidence in others, 133.
Contempt, 95, 129, 130.
Content, 126.
Cousin, M., 151.

Dante, 59.

Darwin, 17, 94, 95, 97, 114, 122-125,
128, 130, 132, 138, 139, 144, 145, 189.
Dejection, 127.
Depression, 127.
Despair, 142, 144.
Disappointment, 146.
Discontent, 126.
Disdain, 129, 130.
Disguflt, 95, 130, 131.
Displicency, 115.
Dissatisfaction, 126.
Dominant motives, 85-)nr«
Dread, 142.

Egoistic, 112.
Ennui, 81.

2.54 Tmsx. H

Envy, 188.

Ju1du>7, 134-lM. Ifl

■

EdtMBi, loveot, IJ.

E<aag«l>9U, 60.

Jobnwu, S., 184. ^M

EvoluLion, 21-23.

Joy, 133, 134. ■

EicilanieDt, 8, 7T, 8T.

EnpecHdon, 1*1,

Suit, 60, IIB, IB4, ITO, 1B6, 192. 242.

Veil, 1*0-146.

Uughter. 9«, 185.

FerriBr, 100.

Locke, IS, 312.

KicklvneH, 981.

Love, 21S.

Ficiioa. es-ei.

Love of sexes. 318-290.

Viual Cause, 169, 16B.

Ludicrous, lis, 1S4-1SS.

lorms, 169.

McYicar, 151. ^M

■

Gardening, 209.

Malignancy, 13L H

■

(JUdness, 127.

Meekness, 130. ^M

■

Guethe, 59-60.

Melancholy, 127, ISS.

Good Humor, 95.

Modesty, 1*S.

(imtitudo, IBB.

Money, love of, 23.

Grief. 134. 125.

Moods of mind, 322, 328.

H.milton, Sir W., 60, 66, 210.

119.

Hardnesa of he«rt, 132.

Mortification, 118.

ISDUUtiiiti>, 199.

Hav, 15*.

Music, 153, l&B, 307.

Heimholw. 161, 162.

Heredity, 22, 98.

Native Tastes and Talenta, U.

Itobhei, 16, 184.

Novels, 54.

Hogarth, 159.

Holiand, Sir H., lOi

Ocean, 300.

Hope, 13S-U5.

Old Age, 81, 83.

■

Horace, 69, SO.

Organic Aftaclion, 8, 88-108.

Horror, 113, 111.

Human frame, 21)0.

Pain, 9, 98.

Hume, 18, 71, 250.

Painting, 209, 211.

■

Humility, 115, 129.

Passion, 315, 232-338.

Humor, good and bad. 27, 130.

Patience, 131.

Humor and wit, IBS.

Peevishness, 131.

Fhanlaam, IB.

■

Picturesque, 184-lflT.

■

Idea, a, 42-75, 111, 1B9-17S.

Pity, 105, 133.

Imaginary scenas, 99.

Plato, 149-161, 159, 168, 170, 19L

Pieaaure, 9.

Impudence, 115.

Poetry, 58.

■

Indignation, 131.

Pope, 60.

Infinite, 189, 192.

Power, lore of, IB. «

IrriuUon, 121.

Praise, love of, 13. <

-1

INDEX. 255 1

Prejndiee, 628, 830.

Shame, 06, Iti. M

Sbelley, 50. ■

Pfide, 128, 129.

BtyneBB, 115. ■

Primary AppeteacBS, 16.

Smith, Adam, 19. ■

Property, love of, Ifil.

Sneering, 180. 1

ProBpecUre emoUoDi, 113, 13B-11T.

Spencer, Herbert, lOT, 108, 116, 116, 1

Pyibagorai, 156, 159.

18T, 166.

Society, lovB of, 13. J

ttAcine, 60.

Sorrow, 133, 125. J

Kage, ISl, 123.

Spirita, good and bad. I3T. ■

IJ.pti.re, 127.

Spontaneous Bow of thought, 72-76. ■

Keactipi), 81, 85, 241-2U.

Stewart, D., 16. ^^J

Rtgret, 115.

Stolca, 18, 212. ^^^H

Itejuieing in eucc«88 of others, 138.

SuUlijiiily, 152, 192-108. ^^^^H

UelalioDi in beaulT, IGE-lTl.

Sulfcinesa, 130, 181. ^^^^M

Sully. 161, 163.

Repining, 119, 131.

Surprise, 95, 137-139.

Sympathy, 102-104, 133, 133, ITO-ITB.

Taate, 118.

ReaiBlanse, 131.

Temper, 131, 132. 226, 237.

Retrospective emoliona, 113, 116-123.

Revenge, 121.

Terror, 142-111.

Revereuce, 138.

Ruskin, IBI, IM, 169.

Tbomeon, 60.

Trees, 104^197.

Soorn, 130.

Turnbull, IB.

Scott, Sir W., 183, 191.

Sculpture, 208.

Selt-Kcuaation, 118.

Vanity, 129.

Self ■dulation, 116.

Veneration, 139.

Vengeance, ^^^^M

Self-chiding, 116.

Vindictiveneas, 131. ^^^^H

^^^H

Voltaire, 60. ^^^^H

Self-esleom, 115.

Waterfalla, 199. ^^^^H

S«IC-l>umil!aIion. 110, 126.

Weeping, I2B. ^^^H

WiU, 19, 37, 6S. ^^^^H

Self-respect, 139.

Wit, 188-188. ^^^M

Wonder, 130. ^

Self-galiBf action, 11 B.

Wordaworth, 61, 17S, IBT. ■

Self-eufficUncy, 116.

Wrath, 121. ^

Hensstion, 163-156.

Sliafte*buT7, 151.

Yoong, ^^^H

Shakaapeare, 60, 81, 138, 1T5.

Youth, ^^^^H

■

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